The Enemy of My Enemy
by whoknowsheregoes
Summary: CS AU Enchanted Forest. Princess Emma is left an orphan after the Dark One mounts a vicious attack on her kingdom. As darkness threatens to destroy her, can she find the strength to take back the kingdom and save her people? Will the fearsome pirate Captain Hook prove a faithful ally? And what will become of them if they succeed? / So many twists and turns planned!
1. Chapter 1: The Hollow

Chapter One: The Hollow

A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack! Read the description, stick with me. Our favorite pirate hero is coming. Promise.

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 _I'm an orphan._

That's all she can think as she hides alone in the darkness. The sounds of cannon fire and the screams of her people are playing on a constant loop in her mind. She hugs her legs a little tighter as she crouches in the corner of one of Snow White's old hideouts. She says a silent prayer of thanks to her dearly departed mother for showing her this place. She'd called it The Hollow - a fitting name for such a brilliant hideaway. Emma felt like a rabbit when she climbed down into the entrance through the enormous tree in which Prince Charming had trapped the bandit Snow White and demanded she return his mother's ring all those years ago.

Emma wondered if her mother had shown her this place knowing some day she too might be forced into exile.

 _Well, if she did, she was right._

The bitter thought does nothing to soothe the utter turmoil of her soul. Neither can it banish the thoughts that keep playing over and over again in her mind.

The Dark One stormed her kingdom and took everything. Her parents, her home, her birthright, the lives of everyone nearest and dearest to her. She watched as he executed them both with a wave of his hand. She didn't even know the reason why.

Grumpy the dwarf, her mother's personal bodyguard, had been the one to save Emma from suffering the same fate as her parents. He was unfailingly stubborn and faithful to the end. It had gotten him killed too - an arrow in the back as he ushered her through a secret passage out of the castle. He managed to seal the door behind them and commanded her to flee with his final breaths.

" _What are you doing? Get out of here! Run!"_

" _My magic can save you," Emma pleaded, trying to calm her nerves enough to focus on the task at hand._

" _There's no time!" He said, coughing as he struggled to find the breath to speak, "You have to live, Princess. Only you can defeat the Dark One and take back the kingdom." The words were laboured, but he managed them. Emma wept as she leaned over him, her fists tight and insistant. It took everything she had not to bang them on his chest as she cried in utter desperation._

" _I can't!"_

" _You must," He rasped, "You're our only hope."_

Emma sniffled, wiping away the tears that seemed to fall of their own accord. She'd spent so much time just weeping in the days that had passed since the attack. She couldn't fathom how she had any tears left. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had anything to eat or drink.

As if on cue, her stomach growled angrily at her, letting her know that her own body had not failed to notice her neglect. The light had grown dim on the dirt walls of the underground cavern she now called home. Another hour or so and it would be pitch black outside. If she was going to find food and water before the night was over, it would have to be now.

Then again, her family was dead, her kingdom lost - just what did she have to live for?

The thought swirled in her mind for far longer than she would ever care to admit. How easy it would be to curl up in this little hole and die. It would be a fitting grave - at least she'd feel close to her parents as she allowed her own hunger and thirst to claim her life. She had no desire for food or drink anyway. And she couldn't imagine a world without King David and Queen Snow, without their love to guide and govern the kingdom. Such terrible darkness without them.

 _But the people…_

The thought came unbidden into Emma's mind. As if her mother were lying there in The Hollow beside her, whispering soft words of sound wisdom.

 _If they survived, any at all, surely it's your duty to save them from the Dark One._

Emma felt utterly exhausted by the idea of doing anything but remaining exactly where she was - where she'd been for who knew how long - weeping softly in the darkness, musing on all that she had lost. The weight of her grief and the task at hand seemed so very far beyond her ability to bear.

 _Do the next right thing._ She could almost hear her father speaking the words, his voice firm and sure, but eyes soft and filled with understanding.

These words carried within them the ring of all that's right and good and true. (Her father's words often carried that weight.) She didn't _have_ to have it all figured out right now. She just had to do the next right thing - put one foot in front of the other and eventually, her path would become clear.

Right now, that meant finding food and water. Perhaps her mind and strength would both return once she'd sated these two basic needs.

She pulled the hood of her heavy brown cloak over her head and peered out from the entrance to The Hollow. She could see rain clouds looming in the distance, could practically feel the electricity charging in the air, but saw no sign of man or beast. She knew she'd seen an inn nearby on her way to The Hollow. Perhaps someone there would take pity on her. Or at the very least, there would be a stable - surely she could stay there. She imagined The Hollow wouldn't be so cozy and warm once the rain began to pour and the walls and floors turned to mud. She shuddered to think what kind of creatures might join her there to take shelter from the storm. A stable would be dry and straw would certainly make a softer bed. And the constant flow of people at the inn would surely keep anything more threatening than a mouse at bay if she did wind up in the stables.

So she climbed the rest of the way out of the tunnel through the hollow tree, its entrance well concealed by the tree's enormous, gnarled roots. She dusted herself off as she took a moment to get her bearings before setting off toward the inn.

There could be no doubt that the Dark One's spies would be searching for her. Emma couldn't bring herself to care if they found her or not. Surely her fate was sealed either way.

Only time would tell when and how she'd meet her end.

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A/N: Thoughts? Do share them in the little white box below! This is going to get a little dark. (Both of her parents just died. Grief is like that.) But as we all know, darkness makes the light shine all the brighter. I promise to make it worth your while. And far more satisfying than that TERRIBLE CLIFFHANGER they gave us before the big hiatus. *cries, shakes fist* We'll get through this, my fellow CS shippers!


	2. Chapter 2: A Man Unwilling

Chapter Two: A Man Unwilling

A/N: This goes out to **Drowned-dreamer** who is the best idea bouncer in all of the land.

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Emma doesn't make it to the inn before the storm descends, but it doesn't take her long to finish the journey once it does. She thanks her lucky stars that her cloak got the worst of it. Now that she's arrived at the inn, she realizes she will most likely be sleeping in the stables with one eye open and her tiny boot knife at the ready. It's unlikely that anyone found in a place like this would show her an ounce of kindness.

Pirates and ruffians abound, the inn's proximity to port proves a likely explanation. Even the serving girls look far more like storybook tavern wenches than any she's ever seen in her very limited experience. There's a cold and lifeless look in the eyes of each one, even when they're smirking and flirting with the leering patrons - as if each one of these women had long ago abandoned all hope of ever being more than a pretty face and form for the basest of men to appraise and abuse.

Emma decides to keep her cloak on, despite the chill it's certain to bring her. In a place like this, she knows it will be better if she doesn't draw attention to herself.

The only available seat in the tavern is at the far end of the bar. There's an open space beside a dark figure who is presently hunched over his drink, eyes closed, rubbing his temples as if the motion will somehow smooth the wrinkles from his furrowed brow. She wonders why the patrons seated nearest to him at the bar have moved their chairs to give him such a wide berth. Everything about his posture and demeanor seem to scream misery and anxious torment. Although she cannot know for sure if it's true, she decides he's unlikely to bother her.

 _Besides, people are starting to stare..._ She thinks, knowing she's lingered in the doorway too long. She tugs her hood more firmly into place and strides over to the far end of the bar, claiming the open seat beside him and looking straight ahead in the direction of the barkeep.

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He's allowing himself a moment to wallow in his despair, something he _never_ does in public, when this stranger dares to sit beside him. There's a part of him that wants to put on a show; defend his reputation as the most fearsome pirate in the seven seas and demand his space. But in this particular moment, as he's been so recently musing on all he's lost at the hand of the Dark One and the fruitlessness of all the years he's spent seeking vengeance, he just can't.

Instead, he downs the rest of his rum and slams the empty glass down on the bar in front of him. The barkeep appears immediately, refilling the glass before quickly scurrying off.

Instead, Killian Jones closes his eyes and lets his mind reel.

 _Regret._ He'd been flooded with a thousand emotions as he held his love, his Milah, watching the light leave her eyes, but regret was the strongest by far.

 _Regret..._ for the way he'd taunted the coward Rumplestiltskin. Had he known then what desperation could drive a man to do, he'd never have humiliated and taunted him so.

 _Regret..._ for not running away with Milah when they had the chance. They had the magic bean. They could have escaped to another world, bought themselves some more time together. Damn their foolish pride. Perhaps she'd still be alive if they had the sense to run rather than stay to give the devil his due.

 _Regret..._ for taking Milah away from her husband in the first place. If he had a little more humility, a little more self-control… if only he'd been a little wiser and a little less full of himself. Perhaps then she might never have abandoned her family. Perhaps Milah and Bae and Rumplestiltskin could have found a way to be happy together. Perhaps Killian could have found happiness with someone else.

Most of all, he felt regret for not fighting harder to save her when the Dark One made his intentions clear.

 _After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets._

How those words came back to haunt him. They were his constant companions. He wished he could take them back, though he knew now they were a lesson he could never allow himself to forget.

The day had been heavy with thoughts like these. It's why he brought his crew here in the first place. Too many months at sea in search of Rumplestiltskin had left them all restless and riled. Thus far, their quest to find the Dark One had proven fruitless. Killian couldn't satisfy his thirst for vengeance - justice for the death of his bride-to-be. Neither could he satisfy his crew's lust for battle and glory and riches. If he wanted to avoid a full scale uprising, he knew he needed to find some way to pacify them. And so he set sail for the lowliest tavern he could think of - resolved to let his men take their fill of wine and women and whiskey while he figured out a new plan.

At first, he'd put on quite a show for the petrified patrons. All fierce bravado and raucous laughter. After all, what good is a name like Captain Hook if it doesn't strike fear into the hearts of all those who laid eyes on him?

Then he left the crew to themselves, choosing instead to terrify the barkeep with all sorts of horrific threats if the poor man didn't keep the rum flowing.

Killian drained his glass at that and slammed it back down again. Once more, the small man behind the bar came bustling over, quickly refilled the glass with shaking hands, and disappeared again.

"Seriously?" Came a low growl from the hooded figure beside him. There had been such silence beside him that he'd nearly forgotten anyone was there. "What's a girl have to do to get a drink around here?"

A woman. Perhaps _that_ would be the way to clear his mind. Work out all his pent up frustration with a sweet release.

He glanced over his shoulder at the mysterious lass who'd been brave enough to sit beside him. A shock of long, blonde waves spilling out of a deep brown hood were all that was visible from where he sat. His curiosity piqued, he sat upright.

"A man might have a few ideas," He replied, a wicked grin playing about his lips.

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A/N: Already started on chapter three. How bad do you want it?


	3. Chapter 3: The Devil's Backbone

Chapter 3: The Devil's Backbone

A/N: This song was on constant loop as I wrote this. Three cheers for **Gracie Paige Hatter** \- who is most certainly the most enthusiastic reviewer I've ever had. Except maybe for my dearest **Polkie2** who's been fueling my excitement for writing FF from the very beginning.

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Emma turned to get a good look at the man who'd so flippantly propositioned her.

"Excuse me?" She said, incredulous. Sure, he was handsome, in a rather rugged and dirty sort of way which wasn't entirely unpleasant. But who did he think he was? Who did he think she was?

 _Careful, Emma,_ She thought to herself, _You're not a Princess anymore. And even if you were, this is definitely not the place to make an announcement like that._

The man smirked at her, letting his eyes freely roam over her form, willing himself to focus on something more pleasant than Milah and the Dark One. As he gazed at her, he let his mind wander, imagining what sort of woman might be hiding beneath that heavy brown cloak.

"Barkeep!" He bellowed. The man instantly appeared, trembling from head to toe.

"Yes, Captain Hook, sir?" The poor man stuttered helplessly.

"A drink for the lady," He demanded, waving cordially in Emma's direction.

"Just a glass of water, please," Emma asked, her voice soft and unsure, trying not to let the Captain out of her sight. The barkeep disappeared behind the counter and produced a large brass pitcher filled to the brim with cool, clean water and two glasses. Emma thanked him before taking a sip. She swore it was the sweetest water she'd ever tasted. She let her eyes slide shut and her head fell back as she drained the glass in a few moments. Her hood slipped, effectively exposing her and the sight left Hook more than a little stunned at his own luck as he drank her in.

 _She's bloody gorgeous._ He thought, admiring her beautiful golden hair and long, lovely neck. His eyes landed on her jaw as she swallowed the water and found it the most enticing thing he'd seen in ages. Without a word, Hook poured her another glass and simply watched as she greedily accepted and emptied it just as she had the first.

"Thirsty, love?" Was all he could say as he refilled her glass once more. She looked at him a bit sheepishly, her cheeks flushed as she remembered herself.

"I'm traveling. It's been a long walk and I couldn't find any fresh water." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. But if this man was who she thought he was, she certainly didn't owe him more than that.

"I suppose you'll be hungry then as well," He said, snapping his fingers in the direction of the bartender without ever taking his eyes off the beautiful blonde woman sitting beside him.

"Oh, that's not-" She began to protest, but within seconds, a large bowl of warm and hearty soup was placed in front of her. The bartender's hands shook as he handed her the napkin and spoon. "Thank you," She said, looking down at the soup incredulously.

 _He really must be Captain Hook._ She thought, remembering the tales her father had told over dinner in the Great Hall. Her mother had scolded him for sharing such stories in front of their young and impressionable daughter. This man seated beside her seemed to fit the bill. As charming and handsome as he was fierce and fiendish.

"Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger, at your service." He said, extending his hand toward her, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

 _Damn._ She thinks, her heart beating a little faster as she takes a good look at him. All dark, disheveled hair and bright blue eyes, his boyish grin and handsome beard a maddening impossibility. Oddly enough, there's an air of unshakable confidence about him that reminds Emma of her favorite storybook heroes. And she ventures a guess that this is a man who will not be given the brush off.

So she trains her face to remain cool and indifferent as she tentatively places her hand in his, but knows she's failing when his smile spreads a little wider. He's reading her like a book.

 _Careful, Emma._ She thinks, internally scolding her foolish heart for betraying her so quickly.

"Emma," She says slowly, her mind scrambling for a surname as he lowers his head to place a maddeningly tender kiss on her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. "Swan," She adds, a childhood pet name popping into her head.

"Emma," He speaks her name with reverence, pausing as his impossibly blue eyes continue boring into hers. "Swan," He finishes with a smirk, as if he knows it's a lie. "What brings you to this deplorable place?

He was so… cordial. His warmth effectively disarming her. The words seemed to roll off his tongue like a pleasant melody. She couldn't quite place his accent, but that didn't hinder her ability to enjoy it.

"I told you. I'm traveling," She replied, remembering to remove her hand from his as she turned to her soup. She wasn't going to tell him her secrets just because she found him attractive and enjoyed his company. She remembered the stories. This man could not be trusted.

"Aye," He replied, taking a sip of his drink, "We have that in common." He added.

"I see. And what brings you here, Captain?"

 _Two can play this game,_ Emma thinks, smirking as she takes another bite of the stew.

"Respite," He says simply, but his face darkens and he finishes his drink in one swift gulp. The barkeep scurries over to refill his glass, but Killian waves his hand dismissively and the little man behind the counter utters several apologies before turning his attention to other patrons.

"I have heard that plundering can be a rather tiring business," Emma teases. He raises an eyebrow at that, pressing his tongue into the side of his mouth in a way that Emma can only describe as unfair.

"Indeed, Miss Swan," He says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "Would that my crew and I _had_ been engaged in such delightfully exhausting frivolity," He sighs and spins the empty glass on the table, his eyes transfixed by the motion. "Alas that a quest much darker and far more dangerous has been our call for many months now."

Emma's curiosity was piqued. But Killian had clearly lost interest in their little flirtation.

"I do love a good pirate's tale," She admitted, astonished at her own eagerness to capture his attention once more, "My father used to tell me such stories of the great and terrible Captain Hook as to frighten me half to death."

"Aye?" He asked, a smile playing about his lips. She couldn't help but smirk at that.

 _Men and their pride. Such an obvious weakness._ She thought, pleased that she'd ferreted out something undeniably true of his character.

His eyes locked with hers as he leaned forward, invading her space, leaning his arm on the bar in front of her and digging his hook into the back of the tall chair in which she was sitting, effectively trapping her in her seat.

"Have you ever heard tell of the Dark One?" He said, his voice low and rough. Emma's heart was beating at an alarming pace - though she couldn't tell whether it was due to the closeness of this handsome stranger or that he'd just whispered the name of her one and only enemy with a tone that mirrored the turmoil and hatred in her own heart.

"Yes," She breathed, her eyes wide as she searched his, absent-mindedly leaning even closer still.

"I could tell you such tales of him as would make your skin crawl," Killian said in a voice so soft and venomous that it set Emma ablaze with desperation to understand what could possibly connect the beautiful, dangerous man seated before her with the beast who'd slaughtered her whole family.

In a move so bold it surprised even Emma herself, she placed her hand firmly on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed a little too hard.

"Tell me." The words sounded far more like a command than a request. And so they were.

She saw something flicker in Killian's bright blue eyes - what it was she couldn't tell, but it left her in such a state of exhilaration and fear that she knew she had to find out.

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A/N: Thoughts go in the little white box below. :)


	4. Chapter 4: A Vendetta

Chapter 4: A Vendetta

A/N: Fair warning- the Jolly Roger in this chapter is a creature entirely my own. So if you have that little sloop from the show in your head? It's alllll wrong. Think more like a Brigantine. :D

I also want to thank everyone who's been adding this story to their favorites and follows and leaving reviews. I so appreciate your encouragement! :)

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Killian paced back and forth behind the tavern. Not long ago, he'd been telling tales of his encounters with the Dark One and the trail of destruction he'd been following for months. Emma had listened eagerly, hanging on his every word, sometimes interrupting for clarity's sake. And now, they were heading back to his ship. He could hardly believe it.

" _I want to help you," She said, her eyes positively burning with more passion than Killian knew how to process, "Take me with you. Please. I'll help you take your vengeance."_

 _While Killian wasn't in the habit of saying no to beautiful women in taverns begging for his company, there was a clear desperation in this woman's eyes that reminded him too much of another. Her request to be taken away just a little too similar._

" _And pray, how might a little thing like you help me take on the Dark One?" He asked, trying very hard to maintain a facade of disinterest as he ordered another drink from the bartender._

 _He watched as she scanned the room nervously, tugging her hood back into place._

" _Not here," She said, keeping her voice low as her eyes darted to the door._

 _Well. If she hadn't captured his attention before, she certainly had now. Killian snatched the entire bottle of rum from the bartender's shaking hand and took a long, slow draught straight from the bottle, never taking his eyes off the beautiful blonde in front of him. He tossed a rather sizable bag of gold on the table and stood up slowly._

" _Meet me out back in ten minutes. Don't let anyone see or follow you." He whispered, leaning in uncomfortably close to her and running the back of his hand along her jaw, eliciting an entirely visible shudder from Emma. He grinned and disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the bar._

And now he waited. Killian Jones hated waiting. He glanced once more at his brass pocket watch. She was definitely late. Perhaps she'd been toying with him. Perhaps she was working for the Dark One. He had many spies. What other explanation could there be for her strange behavior? Perhaps she was on her way with a band of men to take him down.

Killian had nearly decided to walk away completely when he heard the rustle of footsteps coming from behind the stables. He drew his sword at once and prepared to shout for his men but stayed his hand when the hooded figure stepped into the light from the tavern window.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," She said, "I needed a change of clothes and procuring them took longer than I expected."

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking lovely in an off-white dress and soft blue cloak, and placed his sword back in its sheath.

"You're full of surprises, Miss Swan," He said, shaking his head.

"We have to get out of here before anyone notices. Do you have a horse?" He laughed out loud at that. She looked around nervously, afraid that someone might hear them.

"What on earth would I need a horse for, Swan?" He asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her too close to his side, guiding her around the side of the tavern. Just as she was about to protest, he pointed toward the sea and the horizon. "Look there. Near the docks."

Emma did look. And she could hardly believe her eyes.

There, sitting at the dock, were a handful of small fishing boats and just beyond, a truly enormous ship. Emma couldn't make out much of it in the pale moonlight, but it was far too big to bring all the way into the small port. She imagined it was probably equipped with rows of cannons and cozy cabins throughout. Surely if she could be safe anywhere - it would be there.

"That's… yours?" Emma said, her eyes wide.

"Aye," He said, his chest all puffed up with pride, "The Jolly Roger. Most fearsome vessel in all the realm."

"How do we get there?"

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It didn't take them long to make it aboard the impressive ship. Once they'd climbed inside a large rowboat on the shore, Killian rowed them out to deeper waters where the Jolly Roger could be safely anchored. Emma thought for sure they'd have to climb the ladder on the hull to board, but Killian had made quick work of attaching the boat to two sets of pulleys. He gave a shout and immediately, a handful of crewmen assembled and began to hoist the little row boat up over the bow with both of them still inside it. Emma shuddered to think what kind of man could command such loyalty. Killian simply gazed at her, smiling pleasantly.

He gave her a brief tour of the main deck, his skeleton crew scattering at the mention of a _"night cap"_. He then led her below decks into his private quarters.

Emma could hardly believe her eyes. The cabin was enormous, its opulence even rivaling her own bedroom in the castle. It made her feel a little homesick.

"So, Miss Swan..." He began, twirling a long golden strand of hair between his fingers.

"Emma," She interrupted, cutting him off and stepping away from him. "My name is Emma." She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. There could be no more stalling now. They were on his ship. In his bedroom. And he was looking at her most expectantly.

 _This is it,_ She thought, _He brought me here because I asked for privacy._ _Either I tell him the truth and gain a potential ally or I have to keep up this ruse by sleeping with him._

The thought of whoring herself to this dangerous man for the sake of earning safe passage on a massive war ship left a bad taste in her mouth. Even if it would bring her one step closer to assembling her own army to bring against the Dark One. Even if it was quite obvious that Killian would happily oblige. Even if the idea of spending one or a thousand nights in Killian's bed was a little too intriguing. Emma was too proud to sell herself so cheaply.

But telling him the truth was so risky. Sure, he seemed cordial enough now, but once he learned her true identity, he might turn on her. Sell her to the highest bidder. He was a pirate, after all. Or worse, perhaps he'd use her as some kind of bargaining chip with the Dark One. She cursed herself for coming here with him. She'd never be able to escape this ship if he did turn on her. Even if she managed to subdue the Captain, there were a dozen men, pirates at that, still aboard this ship who would surely stop her. Even a skeleton crew of pirates were still pirates.

Killian drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk beside him.

She was out of time.

 _Truth it is then._

Emma paced a little, shaking her hands nervously, working up the courage to say what she needed to say.

"Something on your mind, love?" He asked, breaking her train of thought. Emma stopped pacing, steeling herself as she turned to face him. The words seemed to stick in her throat. She hated the way her voice cracked, breaking with the weight of words that carried far more of her grief than she truly wanted to share with this man.

"My name is Emma _Nolan_. I am the only daughter of King David and Queen Snow. A few days ago, I watched as the Dark One mounted a vicious attack on my home and murdered my entire family and everyone I love," She couldn't help the single tear that rolled down her cheek. She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to gain her composure. When she opened them again and saw the look of horror on his face, she knew she'd made the right decision. She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve.

"You're not the only one with a vendetta, Hook."

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A/N: I hate to leave it there, but I like to keep my chapters under 2K words. And moving the story along any further would definitely break that rule. Help me stay motivated by leaving some nice words in the little white box below.


	5. Chapter 5: Bird of Sorrow

Chapter 5: Bird of Sorrow

A/N: YOU GUYS. I went to see Glen Hansard and Aoife O'Donovan in concert last night and it gave me aaaaaaaaaall the feels. And now you (and this particular incarnation of CS) get to reap the benefits of those feels. (If you're curious about the title of this chapter, it's the name of one of my favorite Glen Hansard songs. And it's a great companion to this chapter.)

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" _My name is Emma Nolan. I am the only daughter of King David and Queen Snow. A few days ago, I watched as the Dark One mounted a vicious attack on my home and murdered my entire family and everyone I love," She couldn't help the single tear that rolled down her cheek. She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to gain her composure. When she opened them again and saw the look of horror on his face, she knew she'd made the right decision. She wiped the tear from her face._

" _You're not the only one with a vendetta, Hook."_

Killian's mind reeled at this rather unbelievable turn of events. In fact, his entire life of late had been nothing but plot twists and hairpin turns.

One week ago, he'd come up with the most brilliant plan to finally capture and kill the Dark One. It involved a boy named Baelfire who'd been spotted in the Enchanted Forest - or so the rumours went. (Rumours which Killian himself had started.) False bait had been secured, a young man about the same age as the Dark One's long lost son had agreed to lure Rumplestiltskin into his home, embrace him as papa, and stab him with a knife dipped in rare squid ink from the Bottomless Sea. He would be paralyzed. And Killian could finally take his revenge. The trap was set, all the pieces were in place, and all Killian had to do was wait.

A few days ago, the plan had failed. The impostor was found dead on his doorstep. The Dark One had eluded him for the thousandth time and it brought him to the brink of complete and total madness. It had driven him to excessive drink and a fouler mood than ever he'd felt in his life. They'd been sailing ever since. That is, until Killian decided to buy himself some time to regroup by bringing his men to port and letting them take their fill of its pleasures.

An hour ago, he set his heart on bedding a beautiful woman and taking out all his pent up frustration on her. As luck would have it, he found one all too willing. He figured her promises of help defeating the Dark One were just a ruse to get him to take her back to his ship. He was, of course, quite willing to oblige.

And then, no more than a moment ago, he discovered that woman was not just some crafty tavern wench, but a princess. THE Princess. And that she had even more reason than he to want to bring an end to the murderous fiend that was Rumplestiltskin.

"Emma," He said, pausing as he contemplated the weight of all she was carrying at that exact moment, "I'm so sorry."

She covered her mouth and quickly turned her back to him, unable to maintain composure any longer. It was the first time she'd said the words aloud. She didn't know why, but actually speaking the words seemed to plunge her right back into the depths of her grief.

And now, she was _completely_ losing it. In front of a total stranger. Not just a stranger - a pirate. Not just any pirate - the most dangerous pirate in all the realm. And yet, at that particular moment in time, Emma just couldn't bring herself to care.

He stood perfectly still for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. All it took was the sight of her shoulders gently shaking as she wept before he crossed to her in two long strides. Without a word, without thinking, without asking permission, he simply reached for her, turning and gathering her in his arms. Her legs gave out as she sank to her knees. He sank with her. And he held there there on the floor of his cabin as she wept.

He said nothing. In his lifetime, Killian had lost enough people he loved to know that in this moment, words were useless. This woman was drowning in fresh grief. There simply were no words to comfort her.

So he just sat there and held her for as long as she would let him. Every now and then, he'd find a way to let her know she was safe here, that she didn't have to put a brave face on her pain. He stroked her hair or rubbed her back or gave her arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Emma could hardly fathom the situation in which she currently found herself. How she'd gone from hiding in a dirt hole in the ground to flirting with a pirate to making plans to take on the Dark One and now, she was curled up in his lap, weeping uncontrollably as Killian held her.

Perhaps the most unbelievable thing of all was that she had actually found a modicum of comfort in the arms of this man who was, at best, a total stranger and at worst, as fiendish as the Dark One himself.

 _Fate is so fickle_ , She thought bitterly, burying her face in his chest, gripping his shirt in her hand. As her tears slowed and she began to calm herself, she felt a little remorse for how thoroughly she'd soaked the garment.

"I'm sorry," She said, her voice still small and broken. Killian produced a handkerchief from the pocket of his leather greatcoat.

"Nonsense, love," He said, handing it to her, "Nothing for you to be sorry about."

She wiped her face, dried her eyes, and blew her nose. Her cheeks turned red at that. Crying is such a messy business and grief, so ugly. She felt a little embarrassed now that she'd begun to return to her senses.

"I don't know what came over me," She began. He cut her off with a shake of his head.

"You don't need to explain yourself, Princess. Not to me." He said, resting his head on top of hers, surprising himself at how quickly he'd become comfortable and affectionate with this woman. It wasn't like him.

"Oh? How's that?" She began, a note of skepticism in her voice. He sighed.

"I've lost many people I've loved in my lifetime. And most of them at the hands of the Dark One. I am a man well acquainted with grief." She looked up at him then.

"Of course. I'd forgotten your stories. Forgive me, Captain." He smiled at her then - but it was so unlike the cheeky grins he'd given her too easily in the tavern. This was something smaller, softer - more genuine. It seemed to warm her from within.

 _Careful, Emma,_ A warning sounded in her mind.

As she sat there on the floor of the Captain's quarters, looking up at the Captain himself, she found herself, once again, in awe of how she wound up there. And while caution was wise, there was a part of Emma that wanted to forsake it all together.

This man was kind and compassionate. He was soft and warm and firm and strong and everything that was missing in her cold, dark world. And while she was sure that he was capable of great darkness, she could see the light in him too - right there, crystal clear in his too-blue eyes.

She needed him - in every way a person can need another. And thus far, he seemed willing to be needed by her.

 _Nothing else matters,_ She decided with a sense of finality, closing her eyes and snuggling into him. His arms tightened around her responsively and she sighed, burying her face in the soft curve of his neck, not even minding the stubble she found there.

Killian sighed and let his head fall back as he felt her nestling even closer to him.

How long had it been since he'd held a woman like this? How long since he'd felt truly needed by anyone? How long since he had anyone to care for but himself? It was just _so nice_.

Even if it didn't last. Even if she changed her mind and disappeared in the morning. They were both very real possibilities.

But right now, what Emma needed was a friend, an ally. He could be that.

 _What she needs is a hero._ His head argued with his heart. _You're not a hero. You're a pirate. You're Captain Hook._

Perhaps his head was right. Perhaps he couldn't be the hero Emma needed to help her defeat the Dark One. After all, he'd failed in accomplishing that very task a thousand times over.

He looked down at her, saw the way her body had molded to his and the soft smile on her face as she held onto him. She looked like she felt so… safe. Like she might even fall asleep, right there in his arms, in his lap.

For the first time in forever, Killian Jones felt like he wanted to be more than just a vengeful pirate with a death wish. He _wanted_ to be there. He wanted to be there _for her_. Not just to be strong and capable - but to be strong and capable _for her_.

It was as if the center of his whole world had shifted.

He sighed and buried his face in her hair, letting his eyes slide shut, and thanked whatever powers were responsible for that cosmic shift in his universe. It was glorious. And he'd never been more grateful in his entire life.

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A/N: You know what that little white box is for. :) Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: An Alliance Forged

A/N: Wow. Ok. So the holidays are happening. Which means time to write is quite scarce. Thanks for your patience.

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The first thing Emma felt in the morning was the sunlight warm upon her face. She basked in its light, stretching lazily and luxuriating in the pleasantness of silk sheets on her bare legs. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so soundly. Almost as if she'd been gently rocked to sleep. How odd that the feeling still lingered.

And just like that - the sweet spell of the morning was broken. Emma's eyes snapped open and she remembered everything.

She'd secured passage on a massive pirate ship. She'd told its captain her story - he'd taken pity on her.

 _But that wasn't all, was it? It was more than just pity._

Emma remembered his compassion and kindness. How he'd simply held her there in his arms for such a very long time, whispering soft words of comfort, stroking her hair, never asking for anything more. It made her blush to think of how intimate a thing it was to share with a total stranger. Even if nothing more had happened.

She remembered falling asleep in his arms and how he'd woken her so gently when the night was still so dark. He hadn't wanted her to sleep on the floor. He'd given her one of his shirts to sleep in - the hem of her off-white dress at least six inches deep with mud from the walk they'd taken from tavern to port. She thought it was so sweet how he'd turned his back while she was changing.

" _I'm surprised at you, Captain," She teased, tossing her dress on the end of the bed and pulling his too-big chemise over her head, "I thought pirates were womanizers. And you the worst of them all."  
_

 _Killian chuckled darkly._

" _Well, I may be many things to many people, Swan, but I am always a gentleman."_

" _Is that so?" She said, raising an eyebrow at him as she tugged the hem of the shirt into place - thankful it covered her fairly well, but embarrassed by just how much of her legs were left exposed._

" _Aye," He replied, glancing over his shoulder at her, "Though if you'd rather I disrobe you, you need only ask, m'lady."_

Emma couldn't help but smile as she remembered the easy banter they'd exchanged before she'd fallen asleep in his wonderfully soft and luxurious bed. How thoroughly this man continued to surprise her.

She rolled over and found him still sound asleep in a chair by the bed. She was a little surprised to find him there. Given the sheer amount of sunlight streaming in from around the partially closed curtain, she ventured a guess that it was already mid-morning and would have expected that the Captain of the Jolly Roger would have had responsibilities to attend to.

 _I did keep him up awfully late last night. Perhaps I should wake him..._ She thought.

But the sound of a fist banging on the cabin door beat her to the task.

"Cap'n Hook, sir!" A man shouted from the other side before barging in. Emma pulled the covers up over her head - although, she was clothed, the worn linen chemise left very little to the imagination. In an instant, Killian was wide awake, leaping out of the chair, barking orders at the small man and berating him for entering his cabin without permission.

Emma could hardly believe this was the same man from last night. He'd been so kind and gentle that she'd begun to question whether any of the stories were true. She had no such delusions now as she watched him storm out of his cabin in a murderous rage and slam the door behind him. She could still hear him shouting at the men on deck, sending them into a flurry of activity. The only reply anyone dared give was "Aye-aye, sir!"

Emma counted herself thankful to be on this side of the cabin door. She climbed out of his enormous four poster bed and quickly dressed herself in her own clothes. She could hear his voice getting louder and his heavy boots tromping ever closer to the cabin door.

Killian came in and shut the door just as she was attempting to shake the wrinkles out her soft blue cloak. He sighed as his eyes fell on her and slumped back against the door.

"Damn that impertinent little man," Killian cursed, "Wakes me from a perfectly good dream and robs me of all the joys of waking up to a beautiful woman in my bed."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, drawing her cloak around her shoulders.

"I doubt he meant any harm," She pleaded on the nameless man's behalf, "Certainly his waking you didn't warrant such wrath."

He pinched the bridge of his nose,

"Unfortunately, Swan, on this ship, that's exactly what such behavior warrants." She scoffed in reply.

"You'll catch more bees with honey, Captain."

He couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips.

"Flies," He corrected.

"Excuse me?" She replied, entirely unaccustomed with being challenged. He grinned and crossed the room to sit on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms for good measure.

"Bees have no need of honey, Swan. The expression goes, 'You'll catch more _flies_ with honey."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips.

"But flies are not attracted to honey, Captain. I do believe your logic is flawed," She said in a tone as condescending as she could manage, crossing the room and sitting in the large wooden chair behind his desk, not missing the way his eyes and body turned to follow her. He laughed out loud at that.

"Aye, they're attracted to shite. Which is precisely why I treat my men the way I do." She scoffed and shook her head. He cocked an eyebrow and moved around the desk, placing his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning in close. "Let me tell you how it works on my ship. I give the orders and they are obeyed immediately and without question."

Emma felt a chill run down her spine at the sheer closeness of him and the words he spoke. She stared back at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of the softness he'd shown last night. She found nothing but sheer force of will and determination.

Although there was a part of her that found this new, commanding presence wildly attractive, she knew if he was going to respect her at all, she needed to stand her ground.

"That may very well be true, Captain. But I should hope you realize that _I_ am  not a member of your crew. I am the sole surviving ruler of this land. And as such, you will treat me with the appropriate amount of honor and respect that my title and station require. Is that quite clear?"

 _Gods, she's as fierce as she is beautiful,_ he thought as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"As crystal," He replied, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in farther until their faces were mere inches apart. "However, your Majesty," he paused, bowing his head in mock reverence before locking his eyes with hers once more, "You should know that you are currently sailing on a _pirate_ ship. And these men care nothing for things like titles and nobility - except for the plunder and spoils to be had from them." Emma swallowed hard at that, remembering the men she'd seen at the tavern last night and knowing his words were too true. "So long as you're aboard this ship, you need my protection. And in order for you to have it, my authority must _never_ be in question among my crew. Is _that_ quite clear?"

Emma dug her nails into the wooden arm rests beneath her. Her jaw clenched as she considered the invaluable nature of this alliance.

This man had the ability to command an army of men. Dangerous men. Fearless men. She had no doubt they would prove themselves fierce warriors and that their love and fear of their captain would drive them to follow him into battle against any foe.

She needed that. Needed him.

Besides, what good was a princess.. or a queen for that matter… without a crown? Without a throne? Without the fealty of her people? At this stage in life, she was a ruler only in name. Whatever authority she'd been given by her birthright had surely been taken by the Dark One when he'd taken her kingdom and forced her into exile.

Now was not the time for pulling rank.

Now was the time for humility. Diplomacy. Winning hearts and minds. Raising an army. _Earning_ \- not demanding - the respect of her people. Including Killian. _Especially_ Killian.

Only then could she defeat the Dark One and take back the kingdom.

"As crystal," She replied, lowering her eyes and her tone in a sign of resignation. She didn't miss his barely audible sigh of relief as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and stood upright.

"Very good, your Majesty," He said, perching on the edge of the desk before her. "Now then. If you have a plan in mind regarding the now imminent destruction of the Dark One, I should very much like to hear it."

For the first time in days, Emma actually smiled.

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A/N: So! Long awaited update, I know. Not a lot happening in this chapter, but we needed to establish a few things about the complicated nature of E&K's relationship before we can move forward. Leave som an words in the box below. Remember, I am an actual person and criticism actually does affect me. Thanks! :)


	7. Chapter 7: Too Much & Not Enough

Chapter 7: Too Much & Not Enough

A/N: Let's move into more exciting plot developments, shall we?

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"Land ho!" cried the man from the crow's nest far above the deck of the Jolly Roger. Several crew members chimed in after him, repeating the cry so that it could be heard above and below deck from fore to aft. Emma climbed onto the quarterdeck and joined Killian at the helm.

"Well, your Majesty, we've arrived at the lovely kingdom of Arendelle."

"So I see, Captain," Emma replied, a satisfied sort of half-smile on her face.

It had been two weeks since they'd set sail together to raise an army and enlist the aid of the neighboring kingdoms. They had first stopped at the kingdoms of her mother's friends - Cinderella, Aurora, Rapunzel, and Ariel. While each had offered their sympathies and as many soldiers and supplies as they could spare, it hadn't been nearly as much as they'd hoped for. Certainly not enough to take on the Dark One. The men had fallen in line without much need of fear mongering from Captain Hook. In fact, their blind obedience and constant commitment to proving themselves useful and ready for battle had inspired his own men to be on their best behavior. For the first time in his life, Killian was learning how to be a leader that _inspired_ men to follow him rather than demanding their obedience.

He was learning that from Emma. How she continued to surprise him. How gracious and patient and kind she remained even in impossible circumstances. She worked tirelessly for hours on end, writing letters to send to potential allies once they reached the next port, helping in the kitchens, making sure each man aboard had all that he needed, even helping Killian make plans for battle. The men had grown to love her for it. And Killian was not immune.

He watched her pour herself so fully into each task that lay before her - whether that was helping in the kitchen or speaking with the men or poring over maps, discussing strategies and tactics to mount a successful attack on the Dark One and take back the castle. Her wisdom and value in these ways shouldn't have been a surprise - she was, after all, the daughter of two of the bravest and most beloved monarchs he'd ever heard of. Monarchs who also had to fight for their kingdom.

Even so, with each late night and long day spent working side by side, Killian knew he was falling hopelessly in love with her. His poor heart could hardly take it. The impossibility of their alliance proving anything more than just that was not lost on him. After all - a pirate was not a suitable consort for a Queen. He'd taken to spending most of his evenings at the helm of his ship - musing on all he'd lost and gained and how he'd do anything to keep her safe. Once he could no longer keep his eyes open, he'd retire to his cabin and sleep in the chair at her bedside. Sometimes, very late at night, he would find her weeping. And then he would climb into bed with her and hold her until she exhausted herself and they'd both give in to sleep. In the morning, she would thank him and he would dismiss it with a tasteless joke about a beautiful woman in his bed. She would laugh and they would go about their days as usual.

It was a maddening cycle. But Killian wouldn't trade it for all the treasure in all the worlds.

There were only two more logical stops they could make before returning home to her own land and attempting to muster forces among her own people. That would be the the last step of their preparations before leading the troops into battle. Killian sighed as he looked through his spyglass. This kingdom looked wealthy enough - it seemed to have remained untouched by the ogre wars. Perhaps they could afford to help more than the others.

"I hope your friend the Queen is as loyal and generous as you say."

"As do I," she answered, drumming her fingers nervously on the railing.

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Naturally, Princess Emma was received with all of the grace and love and empathy in the world from Queen Elsa and her sister Anna. They too had lost both parents in a tragic and unexpected way. They had also faced opposition from usurpers threatening their own kingdom. They offered food and shelter and all the armed forces Arendelle could spare.

But Killian and Emma both knew that even though it was generous beyond anything they could have imagined - it wouldn't be enough. They thanked the Queen and Princess for their kindness and loyalty and graciously accepted the troops, arms, and supplies, but knew they could not linger if they had any hope of saving the kingdom before the Dark One had time to assume a position of total control.

"Even so," Queen Elsa said, "You must stay at least one night to replenish your strength. We'll take counsel together."

"Elsa, please-" Emma began to protest. But Elsa shook her head and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You're still grieving, Emma. You can't just stuff all those emotions in a box and expect them to stay there. Give yourself a _moment_ to process some of these things before you go charging into battle." Emma pondered that. Elsa placed both hands on her friend's shoulders to draw her attention. "You're safe here, Emma. Rest, just for the night. Our troops will be ready to join you on their own fully stocked ships with their own supplies, ready to sail under the command of Admiral Jones first thing in the morning." Emma nodded.

"Admiral?" Killian interrupted, laughing. "Pardon me, your Majesty, but I believe you are mistaken."

"Is that not the title given to the man who commands a fleet of ships in battle?"

Killian stared at her blankly, his mouth agape. His eyes fluttered and he stammered a bit to find the words- any words- to reply. She smiled smugly.

"I thought so."

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That night, after a lengthy talk with Elsa and Anna about losing their parents and saving their own kingdom from Hans and his twelve brothers from the Southern Isles, Emma retired to her chambers feeling more than a little raw. As she shut the door behind her, she noticed that the handmaiden assigned to her had just finished drawing her a hot bath. Emma nearly wept at the sight of the steaming hot tub and the lovely, calming scent of lavender wafting through the room. For the first time in many weeks, Emma felt like a princess again and not a foreign dignitary on a long and arduous expedition of utmost secrecy. Her handmaid helped her undress and Emma thanked her profusely before quickly pulling her hair up and climbing into the tub. She lay back and closed her eyes, letting the warm water envelop her and groaning softly at how wonderful it felt to be weightless. Safe. At peace. At home.

But she wasn't. Not truly. She frowned as she tried to push the thought away. It wouldn't serve her to dwell on such impossible things after the wounds had so recently been re-opened and examined and thoroughly discussed with Elsa and Anna.

It hadn't been _all_ bad. In fact, she had found parts of the conversation extremely helpful.

The problem was that she felt stuck on a pendulum swinging back and forth between wanting to remember and wanting to forget; wanting to talk about it and also not wanting to talk about it. Even worse - not wanting to _not want_ to talk about it. Her whole world seemed to be all too much and not enough and she had no idea how to process her own emotions when they were just so confusing.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and willed her mind to clear itself.

Just then, she felt a hand slide gingerly onto her shoulders before beginning to massage it gently.

"Thank you, Johanna," Emma sighed, relaxing as she focused her mind on the slow and steady circles being rubbed into her skin.

"Johanna, who has _two_ hands, stepped out a few moments ago, love. But I could summon her for you if you'd prefer..." Emma whipped her head around to find an all too familiar face smiling back at her.

"Captain Jones!" She scolded, grabbing a hand towel the maidservant had draped over the edge of the tub and quickly using it to cover herself, not caring that she'd soaked it in the process. "This is highly inappropriate. What on earth possessed you to enter my private chambers unannounced while I am _bathing_?!"

Killian chuckled darkly, unable to hide his amusement over the way her cheeks flushed. He admired the way her long, golden hair had been drawn into a high and hasty bun, allowing for a few stray curls to fall down her neck. She was radiant, even in her indignation.

"Forgive me, your Highness," he replied, bowing his head and placing his hook over his heart, "I didn't know you were bathing. I only came to check on you and when I found you like this and still looking so tense, I couldn't help myself." Emma raised a rather judgemental eyebrow at him before turning her back to him once more.

"I suppose you shouldn't be punished for seeking to serve your future queen," She conceded, settling into her previous position, keeping the towel tucked tightly beneath her arms. It was a pathetic excuse, to be sure, but in that particular moment, she was far too tired and tightly wound to care much about propriety. If Killian had any comfort to offer her, she was in no position to refuse him.

Wordlessly, he resumed his task of attempting to release some of the tension in her shoulders. She sighed and let her head fall back against the edge of the large wooden tub.

"That's lovely, Killian," She replied, eyes closed, a soft smile on her lips. He smiled.

" _Anything_ to serve the future queen of the realm," He teased. She opened one eye to peek at him, an almost reproachful smirk on her lips. He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed, waving a hand regally in jest before closing her eyes and sinking a little deeper into the water.

"With only half the forces we were hoping for, I doubt the surety of my future reign." Killian frowned at that, continuing his ministrations on the other side.

"Doubt? I thought the Nolans never doubted. Faith and trust and pixie dust and all of that." Emma scoffed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Perhaps so, but unfortunately for us all, I am not my parents." Killian shrugged as he began working on a particularly tight knot on the back of her shoulder. She sat up a little and let her head roll forward, allowing him better access.

"Well in the time I've known you, you've certainly proven yourself brave and resourceful, benevolent and kind, wise and discerning, and unfailingly gracious - even in the most trying of circumstances. You've won the hearts of my entire crew and all the soldiers borrowed from the other kingdoms. I'm quite sure you'll prove yourself as fierce a warrior on the battlefield as Snow White herself."

Emma could feel the heat of tears building behind her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and drew a shaky breath.

"Your parents would be proud of you, Swan," He said, his voice soft and low as he used his hook to fish a stray strand of hair out of the bath water and drape it over her shoulder instead. She turned around, pressing herself against the wooden wall between them and placing her hands on the ledge. Her wide eyes searched his, eager to find any sign in them of the measure of his sincerity.

"Do you truly believe that?"

"Aye," He said, with great conviction as he looked deeply into her green eyes, feeling his heart break as he watched them fill with tears, "I know it."

Emma stayed there for a full minute - just staring into his impossibly blue eyes. When she could find no lie in them, she was faced with an irresistible impulse.

Without thinking, she reached for him, grabbed the lapels of his leather greatcoat, pulled him close, and kissed him with everything she had.

Killian's eyebrows shot right up his forehead in utter shock as his eyes slid automatically shut. For a moment, he wondered if perhaps he should stop her - if she really wanted this or if she was just feeling emotional and using him, using this, as some kind of release. Then he felt her draw his lower lip tentatively into her mouth, as if asking permission to deepen the kiss, and it was all over. He sat up tall on his knees, bringing his good hand to cradle the back of her head and his other to draw her closer still, careful not to scratch her with his hook.

And in that moment, each of them felt quite sure that all was right with the world.

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A/N: And that's all you get for now! We need a little CS happiness right about now, don't we, fellow shippers? That last episode nearly killed me.

I had precious little feedback on the last chapter - which was not terribly exciting, I know - so I guess we'll see how badly you want the next chapter after this one. Let me know in the little white box below. Encouraging words make me write faster and post more often! :)


	8. Chapter 8: Impasse

Chapter 8: Impasse

A/N: Two quick things.

1) Don't hate me for this chapter. Stick with me. I like plot twists and making my characters work for their HEA's. If you've read my other stuff - you probably already know that by now. (But if you're feeling raw after that finale and in need of some good CS fluff, you should check out my other story, "I Wonder If I'll Ever See You Again" - because it is just that.)

2) I'm in search of a beta! Must be quick and primarily focused on spelling/grammar checks. Too many plot suggestions throw me way off my game. I already have an idea bouncer or two and don't need any more than that. PM me if you're interested.

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The next morning, Emma found herself sneaking out of bed - careful not to wake the still sleeping pirate beside her. She found an oversized white chemise on a peg on the wall near the long forsaken tub - clearly intended to be used as a nightgown - and quickly dressed herself in it. Once decent, she began searching for her clothes. She couldn't find them anywhere. She cursed under her breath, realizing that Johanna must have taken them to be laundered last night and would surely be bringing her a fresh set this morning.

"Language like that is hardly appropriate for a princess," Killian said, his voice still gravelly from sleep. She turned to look at him, her mouth in the shape of a perfect 'O'.

"Not that I mind," He continued, smirking as he raised his arms and folded them behind his head, "Up until quite recently, I've never been the _princessy_ type."

She smiled at him a bit sheepishly, her cheeks flushing as she admired his bare, muscular arms and chest on display for her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she resigned herself to her fate of waiting for Johanna to arrive and praying she would be discreet.

"Well, I can't say I've spent much time with pirates prior to meeting you in a tavern," She conceded, plopping herself on the end of the bed, near his feet.

"You mean after _propositioning_ me in a tavern," He corrected, winking at her and flashing her a mischievous grin. Emma laughed out loud at that.

"That is not _quite_ how I remember it, Captain." He smiled, sitting up and scooting toward the end of the bed.

"I seem to recall that you were rather insistent on getting back to my ship," He teased, resting his hand on the soft curve of her neck as he closed the distance between them and kissed her tenderly.

"Mmmm," Emma hummed softly, feeling herself begin to melt into him. The way he kissed… it was no wonder they wound up spending the night together. But regardless of how much she might want it to - she knew this dalliance could not last. She broke the kiss and rested her forehead on his, mentally preparing herself for what she knew she needed to do. "Killian," She began, sighing softly.

"Spare me the speech, love," He said, interrupting her before she could go on. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips and pulled back to look in her eyes, "I know what this is. And what it can never be." Emma blinked, her mouth hanging open. She stammered a little, but could find no words. He laughed out loud at that. "Do you think you're the first woman I've taken to bed who had responsibilities?"

Emma had to admit she felt a little wounded by how flippantly he spoke of what had just happened between them. She never imagined that she would be his first - that much was clear from the moment they met in the tavern and he'd certainly confirmed her suspicions last night. Truthfully, he wasn't her first either. But what they shared together just hours ago had meant _something_ to her - even if her station wouldn't allow anything to come of it.

"I suppose not," were the only words she could manage in reply.

Killian missed nothing - neither the look on her face nor tone of her voice - both of which made it abundantly clear that Emma was feeling more than just a little nonplussed. He took her face in his hands, such as they were, and Emma looked down at the mangled flesh where his wrist ended. She could only think what an intimate thing it was for him to share so much of himself with her. Intimacy had always been difficult for Emma. But for him, it seemed so effortless.

"Emma," He began, dipping his head low to catch her gaze, "I want you. I wanted you the very moment we met. I suspect I will _always_ want you. And I'll have you on whatever terms you'll allow." She felt her heart soften a little at that, and placed her hands on his bare chest, pressing her forehead to his.

"I just thought," She began, her eyes low and cheeks flushing softly, "I thought that maybe it meant something more…" She looked up at him then and saw fear in his eyes. She panicked and quickly added, "...for you."

He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck with his hook.

"As I said, Princess, you're not the first woman I've had with the kind of responsibilities that makes a relationship like this rather difficult." She couldn't help but wonder precisely who and what that meant. He curled his fingers under her chin and lifted her face gently, drawing her gaze to his once more. "You don't need to worry about me, Emma."

She smiled at him then, but it didn't reach her eyes. His brow furrowed at that and she decided that this conversation - and his ability to read her like a book - had gone far enough. She let out a nervous laugh and ran her hand through her hair, pulling away from him smoothly.

"Well, that's a relief," She lied, placing a quick kiss on his lips before climbing out of bed.

Killian looked at her quizzically, quite certain she was lying… or at least hiding something from him. The thought that Emma might _actually_ feel something for him - something more than a desire to take him to bed - made his heart race.

He was just about to question her further when he heard a soft knock on the door to her chambers. Emma spun around, thanking her lucky stars.

"Princess Emma?" Came the gentle voice of Johanna the handmaiden.

Emma quickly turned to shoo him out of her bed - but he was already gone. Her eyes darted back and forth across the room and saw no sign of him anywhere.

 _Huh. He wasn't kidding then…_ She thought with furrowed brow before giving Johanna permission to enter.

The older woman smiled brightly at her.

"Good morning, your Majesty," She began, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you, Johanna," Emma replied.

"I've brought you some clean clothes. Her Majesty the Queen was most insistent." Emma gasped as the old woman laid out the most beautiful white studded jacket with short pleats in the front and a floor length train in the back. A jeweled belt, white chemise, pair of brown pants, and tall brown riding boots followed suit and finally, a white corset with gossamer ruching on the front.

"It's beautiful," Emma whispered with great reverence.

"It was your mother's," Johanna said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Truly?" Emma asked, looking at the woman in a state of utter shock and disbelief.

"Oh yes. She left it here just a few months ago on her last visit." Johanna produced a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes, "Your mother was one of the kindest souls I've ever met. Her Majesty Queen Elsa insisted that when you arrived, I was to make sure you left wearing this."

Emma couldn't contain herself a moment longer. She gathered the old woman in her arms and squeezed her tightly as she felt her own tears threatening to fall.

"Thank you so much."

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Killian was pacing in his chambers. He'd been unable to do anything else from the moment he'd left Emma's bed.

He couldn't stop thinking about her - couldn't stop replaying last night's events and this morning's conversation over and over and over in his mind.

He couldn't bring himself to regret their lovemaking. Though it might have been easier to keep his feelings in check if he could.

But oh, how deeply he regretted the words he'd spoken so hastily this morning. He fished his leather flask out of his haversack and drained it far too quickly.

 _Damn my pride!_ He thought, throwing his empty flask across the room.

At the time, he assumed she was preparing to let him down easy. He couldn't bear the thought of her telling him it couldn't happen again. That it was only a one-time thing and that their love could never be.

So he lied. Pretended he didn't care. Pretended that he could be her lover without developing any sort of attachment to her.

Even as he said the words, he expected he might regret them later.

What he didn't expect was the look on Emma's face.

 _She was hurt. Even if she was about to give you the brush off. She was_ _hurt_ _. You pretended it didn't mean anything when you know damn well you're hopelessly in love with her and it wounded her._

Killian cursed himself, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling hard. He flopped down on the large bed in his chambers which had been empty all night long.

 _Better get used to it, mate. She'll never share a bed with you again._

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A/N: Come on, you guys. It's CS. You knew it couldn't be _that_ easy, right?


	9. Chapter 9: Breaking and Building

Chapter 9: Breaking and Building

A/N: You can all thank **totdesidero** for my disappearance down the rabbit hole this week. Her story "Stains of Ink" had me fangirling and incapable of doing little else besides obsessing over how badly I want to take another shot at tattoo artist Killian. (Faithful fans know I tried and failed once before.) But you'll be pleased to know that I've put that on the back burner to give this story the time and attention it needs. Because my love for you is real. 3

Also - special thanks to **slightlyxjaded** who is now serving as my beta. Blast those pesky typos and grammatical errors out of the water! Killian would be so proud.

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Emma had been standing in front of the full-sized mirror on the wall in her chambers for quite some time, her eyes glazed over as she let her mind wander.

 _She's really gone. They both are._

She couldn't help but indulge the thoughts as she stood there in her mother's clothes. They weren't _quite_ a perfect fit. Snow had been soft where Emma was firm—curves where Emma had angles. But they would do.

If she was going to inspire the people of this land to rise up against the Dark One, she needed to really look the part of a warrior princess taking back the kingdom. And no one embodied that image better than her mother.

Tears welled in her eyes and she angrily wiped them away.

 _No time. Not now. The ships are waiting. My people are waiting._

Of course, there was someone else waiting, but she couldn't think of him now. Not when there was so much at stake and she needed to be on her guard.

And yet her mind took her there—completely and utterly against her will. Emma found herself powerless to stop it.

 _Last night was so amazing…_ she thought, sighing in resignation as she gave herself over to those renegade thoughts. Killian had been unbelievable—so in tune with her wants and needs and so willing to meet them. It made her blush to think of it.

More than once, he asked if she was sure, if this was really what she wanted. Emma knew wisdom would have said no—wisdom would have stopped to think, pushed aside her emotions and considered reason, paused to count the cost of complicating her relationship with this man who'd become so crucial to the execution of her plans. But Emma had abandoned wisdom all together the very moment she felt Killian hum appreciatively into her kiss as his hand tangled in her hair and drew her closer still.

She couldn't understand how a man so passionate and careful and loving one night could be so indifferent and irreverent in the morning.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a quick succession of quiet knocks on the door.

"Enter," Emma said coolly, schooling her face to hide all sign of inner turmoil.

That is, until she saw the beautiful brunette grinning wolfishly at her from the doorway.

"Ruby!" Emma cried, laughing incredulously. Ruby ran to her at once, immediately wrapping her in an uncomfortably tight hug. Emma closed her eyes tightly, silently thanking whatever powers were watching out for her. "What are you doing _here_?"

"I was in the neighborhood," the brunette said with a shrug. Emma laughed at that. Ruby took a step back to take a good look at her and placed her hand over her heart. "Emma. You look beautiful." Emma could see the tears welling in Ruby's eyes and knew she recognized the outfit.

"Do you think it will inspire the people?" Ruby placed an affectionate hand on her cheek.

"I think _you_ will inspire the people no matter what you're wearing." Emma's eyes softened and she fought the tears that threatened to fall.

"Thank you," was all she said, smiling at her mother's dearest friend. Ruby hugged her once more, rocking her gently back and forth.

"Of course," Ruby replied, giving her another squeeze before pulling back to look in Emma's eyes, "Now. Are you going to tell me the name of the man you spent the night with or do I have to track him down myself?"

Emma's jaw dropped.

" _What?!_ "

"Oh, come on, Emma. His scent is all over you." Emma simply scoffed in reply. "Wolf, remember?" Ruby replied, winking as she tapped her nose knowingly.

Emma felt her entire face go beet red. Ruby laughed out loud.

"Ohhhh…he must be a real catch!"

"Quiet!" Emma shushed her, grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her over to a long and luxurious bench at the end of her bed. Ruby rolled her eyes as she obligingly sat down beside her.

"Alright," the older woman said, her voice noticeably lower in volume, "Now. Who is he?" Emma wrung her hands in her lap.

"His name is Killian," Emma began, her eyes glued to the floor.

"How did you meet?" Emma flushed at that. "Oh Emma, you're killing me!" Ruby giggled, squeezing her arm as she stamped her feet. "What is he—a bandit? A shepherd? A Prince? Perhaps he's betrothed to someone else!"

"Ruby!" Emma scolded.

"Well, you're Snow and David's daughter and your face is as red as a tomato, what am I supposed to think?!"

Emma took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair.

"His name is Killian Jones. He's the Captain of the Jolly Roger. And he's the commander of the army we're raising to fight the Dark One."

And then it was Ruby's turn to look slack-jawed and flushed.

"Emma. Are you telling me the man I smell all over you is _Captain Hook_?!"

"Well, technically, it's _Admiral_ Hook now." Ruby just stared at her in utter disbelief. Emma shrugged. "Elsa gave us a few ships."

"Emma, he's a pirate." Emma sighed.

"I know that. But he's more than just a pirate, Ruby." She looked down at her hands, still wringing uselessly in her lap, "He's kind and compassionate. He's been there for me. He's…." She trailed off, the words sticking in her throat. Ruby took her hands and gave them an affectionate squeeze.

"Do you love him?" she asked. Emma laughed ironically.

"I don't know," she answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"That's ok," Ruby said, reassuringly. "Did this...just happen? Like right before I got here?"

"Last night," Emma admitted.

"Was he your first?" Ruby asked, wincing. Emma shook her head. The older woman let out a sigh of relief which prompted a thoroughly judgemental eyebrow raise from Emma. Ruby laughed at that. "Well you clearly need to process this and I didn't know how much explaining I needed to do!"

"Don't worry, Ruby. My mother took care of that around the time I came of age." Ruby nodded, smiling and laughing nervously.

"So…you have feelings for him." Emma nodded in reply. "And he obviously likes you."

"I guess so," she admitted, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"Emma," Ruby said, sternly, "he risked execution when he put the moves on you. Men don't do that for women they don't like." Emma grinned a bit sheepishly.

"Who said he was the one making the moves?" Ruby burst out laughing.

"You little hussy!" she said, smacking her leg in mock reproach. "Good for you! I can't wait to meet him."

"Well that may be rather difficult since we're sailing for DunBroch this morning."

Ruby gave her a look of mock scorn.

"Do you really think I came all this way for a little girl talk?"

"You're coming?!" Emma exclaimed excitedly.

"Of course I am! Can't let you run off to fight the Dark One without me," Ruby replied, laughing as Emma threw her arms around her. "Especially now that I know you're seducing pirates!" Emma laughed at that, wiping the tears away.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing her tighter. "I'm _so_ glad you're here."

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The ships had all been prepared for departure overnight—just as the Queen had promised. The soldiers from Arendelle were lined up in formation for Killian's inspection. He was currently being debriefed by a man named Kristoff, who'd been recently given a commission in the royal navy—appointed by the Queen herself. Killian nodded attentively as he walked up and down the line, inspecting the rows of men standing before him, waiting for orders.

Having spent a few years in the navy himself (which was already more experience than young Kristoff), Killian felt he had been successfully debriefed within about five minutes.

That had been twenty minutes ago. Emma was late and Killian was starting to worry.

In the interest of keeping up appearances, he proceeded to wring every remotely useful piece of information from the former ice master and deliverer. That in itself had proven quite the task. For the last ten minutes, he'd taken it upon himself to take his inspection of the men a little more seriously, offering comments of both praise and correction as things came to mind, even liberating a rather handsome and full flask from a sailor who'd done a poor job of concealing it.

These men looked appropriately terrified of him. Clearly _"Admiral Jones"_ was fooling no one, despite Queen Elsa's admirable intentions in granting him such a title. The hook was a dead giveaway. Killian already had a wooden hand and gloves, not to mention a beautiful new set of clothing from the Queen more befitting a man of his new rank. He could have worn them, had he truly wanted to embrace his new identity, but somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

 _After all, what would the world be like without Captain Hook?_

Just then, a trio of trumpeters blasted a rousing fanfare, announcing the arrival of the nobles.

"About bloody time," Killian grumbled under his breath, making his way to the front of the regiments and standing at attention.

"You're the Admiral, sir. You shouldn't be standing at attention like the rest of the troops," said a soft, but gruff voice from just behind him. Killian glared daggers over his shoulder at the soldier who dared to correct him.

"It's the bloody queen and princess of this realm and the future queen and princess of my own realm, soldier. And each one of them has earned my respect."

"Quite so, sir. But as the leader of this battalion, according to the customs of this realm, you're to remain at ease until greeted by the royals and then you're supposed to bow."

Being that Elsa, Emma, and Anna were still quite a long way off, receiving well-wishes from members of the court as they made their way down to the shore where the troops were assembled, Killian took this opportunity to ensure that this little know-it-all understood precisely who was in command. He spun around on his heel and stared down the small-framed soldier standing before him.

"Remove your helmet and state your name and rank at once, soldier."

Killian was astonished when the insolent youth before him turned out to be a beautiful woman with long dark hair and brown eyes.

"My name is Mulan. I'm the Captain of the Jewel of the Realm, first ship in your armada."

" _Second_ ship in my armada," he corrected. Mulan narrowed her eyes at that. "That lovely beauty has been under my command for many years now," Killian said proudly, pointing to the Jolly Roger, which was far too big to dock beside any of the three ships from Arendelle preparing to launch. He couldn't help but grin as he watched Mulan's eyes widen as she took in the massive warship.

"The brigantine, sir?"

"Aye," Killian replied, his chest puffed up with pride.

"But that's a pirate flag," she noted before glancing at him once more. "You're Captain Hook."

"It's Admiral now, actually," he corrected, smirking at her smugly. Mulan glared back at him.

"You're still a pirate," she spat.

"And _you're_ still under my command by order of Her Majesty the Queen!" Killian snapped. He didn't miss the way the wind seemed to leave her proverbial sails at that. Feeling triumphant, he continued. "Now that we understand each other, I trust that you won't correct me in front of my men again—"

"It wasn't my intention to—" she interrupted. Killian continued to talk over her.

"—and you will show me the proper respect," he hissed. His voice had taken on a venomous quality that told Mulan that any further interjections from her would be met with swift and very public consequences. She glanced around her, noting that only the other captains of the other ships from Arendelle would have heard their exchange. And none of them would have been surprised by it. But the queen and princesses were quickly approaching.

Steeling herself, she decided, consequences or no, she couldn't afford to let him win.

"Respect is _earned_. Not given."

Killian Jones had never in all his life wanted to harm a woman. Very bad form, the worst, in his mind. He had always considered himself a man with a code.

But this woman was a different story.

He felt a burning desire to teach her a lesson. And he probably would have if the queen and princesses weren't practically upon them.

"Watch your back, _sailor_ ," he threatened, lamely resorting to idle threats and ignoring her rank.

"Watch yours, _Captain_ ," she replied in equal measure.

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A/N: We all know Hook has a temper, right? And apparently some seeeeeerious pride issues. You can thank **drowned-dreamer** for Emma's newest allies. I'm so excited about where this is going. So many things in store. Make some noise in the little white box below if you want more. :)


	10. Chapter 10: Low Rising

Chapter 10: Low Rising

A/N: Oh. Glen Hansard. You're my spirit animal. Sorry. Unrelated, I know. Such a good song though. And so perfect for these two.

Thanks **slightlyxjaded** for being a back-to-back chapter editing champ.

And thanks to all of you for your excitement in review form! Trust me when I say that I'm just as excited as you are!

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The expedition to DunBroch was taking longer than expected due to some unseasonable doldrums. Killian's massive war ship was practically dead in the water. The other three ships from Arendelle were much smaller and thus faring a little better—but not by much.

Emma cursed her luck—wishing with all she had that she'd insisted Elsa travel with them now rather than picking her up on the way back from DunBroch. But the Queen of Arendelle had been most insistent that she remain in her kingdom as long as possible—still wary of her own would-be usurpers. Emma understood those fears better than anyone, especially since she was sending such a large percentage of her armed forces with them.

 _But she could have whipped up a winter wind that would have us there and back again in no time_ , Emma lamented as she pored over maps—desperately trying to judge the distance between Arendelle and DunBroch and the time it would take them to reach it if the tradewinds remained as mild and inconstant as they had been.

"Two weeks," Killian announced unceremoniously from the doorway to his cabin. Emma startled at the sound of his gruff voice.

"I beg your pardon?" Emma said a little breathlessly. She hadn't seen him there.

"If these cursed winds persist in their refusal to cooperate, it'll be two weeks before we reach the shores of DunBroch."

"But you said before we left that it's only a few days' journey!" Emma cried.

"Aye! That was before we set sail and the bloody doldrums came out of nowhere!"

Emma sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples before placing her forehead quite firmly on the center of the captain's large wooden desk.

Seeing her so exasperated tugged at something in Killian's heart. Here was a woman who'd been labouring so tirelessly over the last several weeks to help him assemble an army to defeat their mutual enemy. She had faith when he had none; she'd proven herself clever and ruthless and invaluable in the more strategic and secret parts of setting their plan in place. And a few nights ago, she'd given herself to him so completely that he felt quite sure she'd forever ruined him for anyone else. And all of this in the midst of unspeakable grief.

If anyone deserved a break—it was Emma.

Unfortunately, Killian had no idea how to give her what she so desperately needed.

He couldn't make the wind blow. He couldn't make the ships go faster without sacrificing precious cargo they would need in their siege against the Dark One.

Perhaps worst of all, he doubted she'd allow him to comfort her physically—not after the complete and total ass he'd proven himself just a few mornings prior. She hadn't spoken to him since—not beyond a cordial greeting or some other exchange that was necessary to carry out their respective roles aboard the ship.

They were stuck.

And he couldn't help feeling like it was all his fault.

And he was almost certain she felt the same.

In a fit of anger, Killian threw a punch at the bookcase behind his desk. The satisfying crack of his fist colliding with solid wood and the pain now blooming in his hand brought a pitifully small sort of release.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Emma demanded, picking her head up from the table to scowl at him.

"I can't abide this, Swan!" he cried, absently shaking his hand to release the pain.

"Can't abide what?" she snapped, feeling immediately defensive.

"The bloody doldrums!" He began pacing. "This feeling of utter uselessness," he continued. "And the silent treatment from you is enough to drive a man mad."

"Silent treatment!" Emma scoffed. " _You're_ the one who's been avoiding me!"

"Avoiding you? Swan, you and the wolf girl made it very bloody clear from the moment we sailed from Arendelle that my presence and counsel were no longer required." Emma blinked in surprise.

"Killian," she began, a little taken aback by his words, "I never—"

"I suppose you've got what you came for now. You have the loyalty of my men and a whole fleet of ships full of trained soldiers, armed to the teeth, ready to fight for you. So you jump my bones and take everything I have and now you've finished with me. Is that it?"

The softness that had been growing in Emma upon hearing Killian's earlier confession was completely blown out of the water by the latest bomb he'd just dropped.

"Excuse me?! You're the one who snuck into my bed chambers with your smiles and sweet talk and shoulder rubs while I was NAKED in the bath! And you say all these wonderful things when you already know I'm an emotional wreck and you think I took advantage of _you_?!"

Emma and Killian were both far too gone in their respective tirades to notice, but the Jolly Roger had begun to list first to one side and then to the other.

"I was trying to make you feel better, you spoiled brat!"

"Oh yes! Cause every woman feels much better about her life and the choices she's made after she gives herself to a man who tells her first thing in the morning that it didn't mean anything and he's had lots of other women before her!"

It was Killian's turn to look completely shocked.

"Well done, Captain! Mission accomplished. I certainly feel much better about myself now!"

The ship had begun to sway so violently that Emma had to hold onto the desk to keep from falling. Killian simply stared at her blankly.

"Swan, you were the one about to give _me_ a talking-to about the nature of our relationship."

"Yes, I was!" she admitted, but the lameness of the admission seemed to take all the fire out of the words. "But you should have given me the chance to do it before you assumed you knew what I was going to say." Killian laughed darkly.

"So you were going to let me down easy, you just wanted to do it on your own terms? You really are a princess." Emma narrowed her eyes at that, finding her fire once more.

"If you weren't so busy protecting your stupid pride, you might have—"

"If you stopped trying to control everything for five bloody minutes—"

Suddenly, the cabin door swung open, ushering in a surprising amount of water rolling across the deck and a soaking wet Ruby.

"HEY!" the brunette screamed. "There's a massive storm happening out here that just came out of nowhere! Do you two think you could stop fighting and HELP US?!" Killian and Emma stared at each other blankly for a moment before charging for the door.

Killian took his rightful place at the helm of the Jolly Roger and began barking orders to his men all around. Emma joined a handful of men she knew well and began bailing buckets of water overboard. The rain was pouring, the sea hurling enormous waves at them—threatening to capsize the ship completely. She stood up then, staring up at the huge black clouds above them and wondering where on earth this violent storm could have come from so quickly. There hadn't been a cloud or breath of wind when last she stood on deck. And now she couldn't imagine how far off course they'd be blown if they ever survived this.

SNAP!

Emma heard a loud noise come from somewhere behind her and the sound of Killian screaming her name just before everything went black.

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A/N: Whaaaaaaaat's happening? I'm so excited about it that I can't stop writing. But I'd love to hear your guesses in the little white box below.


	11. Chapter 11: Let the Stars Watch

Chapter 11: Let the Stars Watch

A/N: I think you guys are going to like this one.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to **belovedbrat** and **paupaupi**! Thanks for your faithful and encouraging reviews! :)

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It felt as if everything was happening in slow motion. Killian heard the rope snap on the foremast and watched in horror as the boom began to swing. Several men shouted a warning and Killian screamed Emma's name.

It was too late. She was standing too close to the cannons when the boom smashed into her belly and swept her overboard into the raging sea. Without a second thought, Killian called for Mr. Smee before forsaking his post at the helm, quickly shucking his greatcoat and tying a rope around his waist. Then he climbed onto the rail of the quarterdeck and dove into the frigid waters below.

It was, of course, unspeakably dangerous. And highly irresponsible for a captain to abandon an entire ship of living souls in a storm to save one who'd gone overboard.

But he just couldn't lose her.

Thanking whatever powers were on his side, he spotted her-her body being tossed by the otherwise invisible currents. He fought them, swimming over to her expertly, scooping her up with his bad arm and propelling them both toward the surface. As they rose above the water, he gasped for air. The storm seemed to be calming, but the waves were still fierce and the rain had yet to relent.

He could hear the shouts of his men who had spotted him and felt the rope around his waist pull taut. He wrapped the slack twice around his forearm as he pulled Emma's body closer, careful to keep her head above the water. Within a few moments, their bodies were hoisted over the rail onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. A very concerned looking Ruby quickly rushed over to them with a lantern and blanket in hand. She quickly draped the blanket over Emma and held the lantern close so Killian could better see what he was doing.

He hovered over the form of the unconscious princess and called her name frantically.

"Emma! Emma, love, wake up." He tapped her face gently in an attempt to rouse her. He lowered his face to hers, checking for vital signs. "She's not breathing," he announced, his brow furrowed as he heard the sound of her heartbeat slowing.

At once, he resumed following the procedure he knew all too well. Opening her airways, breathing into them, beginning the compressions on her chest, all the while willing her to live.

Her eyes snapped open and she rolled to her side, her lungs automatically expelling the sea water which would find no quarter there. Killian had no words to describe the relief that flooded him at that moment.

"Gods. Emma," he breathed, feeling lightheaded from the massive weight he felt lifted off his shoulders as she sputtered back to life. He rubbed her lower back affectionately as he waited for her to fully return to herself once more.

The skies were still dark and stormy, but the sea had grown strangely calm.

Emma sat up slowly, wiping her face on her sleeve. Then she lifted her eyes and saw him there. Her pirate. Soaking wet, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath after the valiant rescue mission he'd just performed, and looking at her like she was the most priceless treasure in all the worlds and he'd nearly lost it.

She threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. She felt his arms automatically move to encircle her waist as she clung to him—no longer caring who saw them share such a passionate embrace or what they might think of it.

"I love you." The words gushed from her mouth without regret. Without even a second thought.

"And I you, lass," he confessed, burying his face in her hair as he squeezed her tighter. "Don't you ever leave me again." His desperate plea was a low growl in Emma's ear that made her shudder.

"I won't." She spoke her promise with conviction, as if she had perfect control over such things. As if she had any idea what the future held for them both.

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Hours later, after a thorough examination from the ship's doctor, Emma waited in the captain's cabin.

Ruby had brought her a basin and pitcher of hot water to bathe with. Emma had laughed when the brunette teased her about how sad she must be to not have a bathtub on board the Jolly Roger. She dismissed her with mock scorn before cleaning herself up as best she could. She thanked her lucky stars that Johanna had not only laundered, but also packed her cream dress and blue cloak in a trunk Elsa sent with other personal items for her journey.

She finally retired to the chair Killian usually slept in, wrapping herself in his blanket, closing her eyes as she inhaled the scent of him which still lingered in the fibers.

She loved him. She said it and she meant it.

She said it while _so many_ members of his crew had been watching. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to care.

He saved her life. The man with only one hand and everything to gain from her death had thrown himself after her into stormy seas and _saved her life_. The same man whose very existence she'd been cursing a few hours ago had now become someone she was sure she couldn't live without.

Because there was no longer a soul in this world who loved her as wholly and as selflessly as he did.

Emma heard the sound of heavy boots striding toward the cabin and preemptively wiped away the tears that had been threatening to fall. The door swung open and Killian stepped through. His eyes fell on her and softened immediately. He shut the door behind him and crossed the room slowly. He paused before the fireplace opposite his bed and crouched low before it. He opened the glass doors that kept the flames safely within and stoked the fire.

"Warming up yet?" he asked, his voice soft and low.

"Yes," she answered, smiling softly as she sat upright in his chair, raking her fingers through her long, golden hair before she began twisting it into a thick four-stranded braid. "You?" He smiled back at her.

"A bit more slowly, I'd wager," he replied, letting the heat from the flames warm his hands. His hair was still wet. Emma's eyes scanned him quickly and she realized he hadn't even had time to change his clothes yet—probably because as soon as he'd been cleared by the doctor, his responsibilities as captain of the ship had required his presence on deck—dealing with the aftermath of the storm and making sure all parties were accounted for.

Suddenly, Emma felt terribly selfish. All the time she'd spent bathing and dressing and warming herself by the fire—he'd been hard at work in the freezing northern rain. She abandoned her braiding and popped out of her chair at once. She made her way to the table, opening a heavy glass decanter and filling a glass with an amber liquid she could only assume was rum. He stood up slowly, a quizzical expression on his face as he watched her. She crossed the room to meet him and handed him the beverage, knowing he needed no further instruction.

He smirked at her, raising an eyebrow and his glass in gratitude before taking a slow sip. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the way the liquor warmed him from within.

"Thanks, love." He took one more sip before setting it down on the mantle. Emma frowned. She'd never seen him take his time with a drink before. Certainly not after such an exhausting ordeal as the one they'd just endured.

"Killian, you have to get out of those clothes," she said, her brow furrowed as she appraised the way his still damp chemise clung to his skin. He chuckled darkly, pushing her unsecured braid over her shoulder.

"You know you only ever need ask, Princess," he teased, his hand trailing down her arm to rest on her waist. She narrowed her eyes at him and would have scolded him if not for the way he was looking at her. She'd been expecting his usual cocky grin and waggling eyebrows. Instead she was met with dreamy blue eyes, gazing at her with more affection than she knew how to process and the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

She felt her heart beat faster and her indignation dissolving into something else entirely as she held his gaze. Her face flushed and she looked down at the floor as she placed her hands on his broad shoulders.

"You know what I mean," she said, her voice soft and low. "Your clothes are still soaked with that icy water." Her hand played absently with the collar of his shirt, brushing her fingertips across the warm flesh left exposed by the way he always left it hanging open. He shuddered and drew her closer.

"Emma…." He said her name like a prayer as he gathered her in his arms.

"Yes?" she replied a little breathlessly as she raised her eyes to meet his.

"I love you," he said, pressing his forehead to hers as his eyes slid shut.

He knew she'd already said the words on deck. But he needed to hear them again— needed her to hear him speak the truth he'd known for weeks now. Now that things were calmer and he hadn't _just_ saved her life, he needed her to know that he meant them.

"I know," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I love you too."

And as he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, he knew she meant them too.

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A/N: Special thanks to **slightlyxjaded** \- who covers my necessary edits with such grace and STILL reviews every chapter when it goes live. She's my big damn hero. 3


	12. Chapter 12: Perhaps

Chapter 12: Perhaps

A/N: Well there was quite a lapse that just occurred between chapters for those of you who've been following this story from the beginning. I do apologize for that. The muse strikes when she strikes, I'm afraid. And right now I feel like I have so much plot to churn through before I can get to the developments I'm _really_ excited about. So if you're wanting me to write faster, I'd encourage you to leave some kind words in the little white box below. That is, after you've read this chapter. As always - hope you love it!

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The next morning, Emma woke up with a smile on her face. She stretched beneath the weight of the heavy comforter and cool silk sheets of Killian's bed–feeling a little sore from the previous night's exertions, but not minding it in the least.

She felt like she'd slept for a year. She rolled over to greet her handsome captain and was shocked to find the bed beside her empty.

 _No. Not again…_ she thought, trying not to panic. She pushed herself bolt upright and scanned the cabin for any sign of him.

That's when she saw the vase of flowering thistles on the small dining table. Still not satisfied, she leapt out of bed and hurried over to it, opening a note that she found folded beside the vase.

 _Princess,_

 _We arrived on the shores of DunBroch early this morning. Forgive me. I couldn't bare to wake you from such a deep and peaceful slumber. I won't say I wasn't tempted. You are so lovely._

Emma stood there smiling like an idiot as she read the elegantly penned words. She was sure that he would have teased her for blushing had he been there to see it.

 _I've sent a small troop of our soldiers with the Wolf Girl to request an audience with the Queen. In the meantime, I must try to locate the other ships in our armada. With any luck, the winds favored them as well and they are not far from us._

 _I'll return as swiftly as I am able. In the meanwhile, not a moment will go by that I won't think of you._

 _Yours, Killian_

Emma crushed the paper to her chest, positively pink and grinning like a cheshire cat.

As the crowned princess of the Enchanted Forest, Emma had no shortage of correspondence in her life. She'd even received a handful of love letters from various suitors seeking her favor. Some of them had even written her poems. Most were not very good, but Emma remembered feeling at least flattered, if not interested.

But not one of them had affected her like this brief note from a pirate. _Her_ pirate. She smiled as she re-read the affectionate ending and then tucked it away in her trunk.

Satisfied that Killian would return soon, she set about the work of getting dressed and ready for the day ahead.

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Not long before dawn, Mr. Smee had roused the Captain from his bed and given him an account of what had transpired in his absence. During the night, the wind had been steadily blowing them in the direction of DunBroch and Smee had ordered the men to weigh anchor as soon as the isle was in sight. It had been a quiet night since then–the sea itself seeming to bow to their will. The strange and sudden shifts in the weather had elicited fearful whispers of sorcery among his men. Killian dismissed such talk as superstitious nonsense and ordered the crew back to work, but in his heart, he remained wary.

He found one of the other ships about a half a mile down the coast. She'd clearly run aground in the aftermath of the storm. Killian had inspected the ship at once and mercifully found no structural damage. Given that it was a relatively small ship, it seemed that with the rising tide, her crew could easily set her to rights. He gave strict instruction on how and when this task was to be accomplished to the ship's captain, a man called Graham, who then informed him that he'd seen one of the other ships capsize in the violent storm, but no sign of the third. Killian thanked him and continued searching.

Eventually, he found it, but it was almost a league from where he'd found the first and anchored a little ways from shore. He called out, but there was no reply and no sign of her captain or crew anywhere. He looked up at the hull, noticed the name of the vessel, and remembered that this was Mulan's ship.

It was a little hard for him to swallow that the insolent woman he'd met in Arendelle would abandon her vessel and not even leave a skeleton crew behind to protect it. At once, he turned and made his way quickly back toward the Jolly Roger.

In that moment, protecting Emma was the only thought on his mind.

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Emma had only been awake for half an hour before Killian came barging through the door to his cabin, his face white as a sheet. When he saw her standing there, twisting her long blonde hair into a thick and complicated braid, he felt all the relief and joy and gratitude and love in the world come rushing over him like a flood. He leaned back against the door and just focused on catching his breath. He'd been running full tilt since he'd found _The Jewel_ without her crew or captain and now that he knew Emma was safe–his good friends fear and adrenaline had left him and his body seemed to mourn the loss of them.

Emma just stared at him, mouth agape, unable to manage any more than that. He was quite a sight with his clothes all disheveled and chest heaving as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He noticed her staring and cocked an eyebrow at her incredulously. Emma flushed furiously at that, mentally scolding herself for ogling him before crossing the room at once.

"Are you alright?" she asked, taking his face in her hands. Without a moment's hesitation, he kissed her with a ferocity that would have knocked her over if he hadn't brought his arms around her waist, practically crushing her against him. Emma's head swam as he pulled away.

"You're safe," he said, "That's that matters." Emma couldn't help the laugh that escaped her then.

"Well, I hardly think that's true, Captain." Killian grinned and pecked her lips once more.

"Admiral," he corrected. She smirked and kissed him again.

"You'll always be Captain Hook to me."

Her tone was affectionate–her meaning could not possibly have been mistaken, even as she placed a tender and lingering kiss on his lips–but somehow, the words still stung like salt in an open wound.

"Killian, what is it?" she asked, sensing a shift in his demeanor. He sighed and turned his face to kiss her palm as he took her hands in his, such as they were. The sight of her effortlessly curling her long, elegant fingers around his hook awakened conflicting emotions in him that he simply could not take the time to process.

 _Not now anyway,_ he thought, making a mental note to speak more candidly with Emma later about his concerns regarding how her people would feel about their new queen's involvement with an infamous pirate.

"I found two ships–the third was lost in the storm. But only one of them had a crew and captain." Emma looked up at him, concern etched across her face.

"Could they have abandoned ship in the night? Perhaps it washed up on the shore in the storm? Should we send out a search party?" Killian shook his head, kissing her hand gently.

"No, love. She was anchored in the water and everything on deck was exactly as it should be." He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. "I expect we'll find Captain Mulan and her crew waiting for us at the castle."

Emma nodded, turning around and picking up her sheathed sword and fastening her belt around her waist.

"Very well then, Captain. We mustn't keep the Queen of DunBroch waiting."

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As the first ever female successor of her kingdom, Queen Merida had seen her fair share of traitors and usurpers. The peace they now enjoyed in DunBroch had been hard fought as the other clan leaders had forced her to prove herself worthy to inherit her father's throne. She'd nearly lost her brothers in the process–but her matchless bravery, commitment to integrity, and utter refusal to surrender had won the other lords over in the end.

But not everyone. Over the years, she'd found many a snake in the grass at court, even among her own friends and most trusted advisors. In fact, she'd developed rather a knack for sniffing them out.

That was why she had Captain Mulan and her crew sent to the dungeons almost as soon as they'd arrived at the castle. Poor Mulan had barely begun telling her tale of how Princess Emma was conspiring with pirates and bringing shame on her family before Merida had her bound and gagged and locked away in a cell that kept her entirely isolated from her crew. It hadn't been an easy task–that woman was as fierce as a famished wolf.

But the Queen of DunBroch was fiercer still.

She was surprised and perhaps a little abashed when Princess Emma arrived with her pirate companion in tow to plead for assistance in person as she already had in her letter.

Before all the lords and ladies of her court, Merida vowed that she would give all she could to support them in their worthy cause and then gave a rousing speech which led most of her courtiers to pledge their own support–some even agreeing to follow them into battle.

Then she dismissed the entire court and invited Emma and Killian to dine with her. Alone.

"Queen Merida, I can't thank you enough for all you've done," Emma began.

"Aye, we are greatly in your debt, Your Majesty," Killian added, for once feeling like they might actually stand a chance of putting up a good fight against The Dark One, rather than just being slaughtered _en masse_.

"Yes, well, there's another issue yet to be addressed," Merida said with a sigh as she plopped down in her dining chair, waving nonchalantly for Emma and Killian to join her at the table. She didn't miss the way their eyes both went wide at the spread before them and wondered how many days it had been since they'd had a full meal. She waited until her servant had poured an ample amount of water and wine for everyone before dismissing the remaining staff and leaving the three of them alone in the large stone dining hall.

"I've a few dozen of your soldiers and a real backbiter of a captain locked away in my dungeons," Merida announced unceremoniously.

Killian had been in the process of draining his goblet when she dropped that conversational bomb on them. He nearly choked, but instead he swallowed hard and coughed to clear his throat.

"Ahhh, so her tale was true after all," the Queen said, smirking wickedly as she sipped her wine. Emma flushed furiously.

"Your Majesty," Killian began, "I don't know what sort of stories that traitor has been spinning for you, but I can assure you that–"

"Relax, Hook," Merida interrupted, "What you and the princess do behind closed doors is nobody's business but your own. I have no interest in hearing explanations, excuses, or platitudes." She took another sip of wine and watched as Emma glared daggers at Killian and nearly laughed out loud at his subsequent look of bewilderment. "I merely wished to advise you to beware of those who swear fealty to you and then run to other kingdoms telling your secrets."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Emma replied without a moment's hesitation, "Your counsel is invaluable."

"Well, I haven't counseled you yet!" Merida said, scoffing.

Killian stared at the brazen redheaded queen, utterly dumbstruck. How could she be so crass? Could the leader of a country like this really be so frank and indecorous?

 _I thought queens and princesses were always sweet and demure and unfailingly kind._

As he remembered his encounters with Aurora and Ariel and Elsa and even Emma herself, he couldn't help the warmth he felt creeping into his cheeks. Perhaps he'd been misjudging the royals all along. Perhaps they were only human–with strengths and weaknesses, flaws and fire.

Killian could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Emma drain her goblet and reach for the jug of wine on the table to fill it once more.

"By all means, Merida, counsel away!"

He watched as Emma's carefully constructed walls came crashing down, all sense of ceremony completely abandoned, and wondered at the influence the brash queen had on his princess. He poured himself another glass of wine as he watched the regal drama unfold before him.

"Look, Emma, I've turned down every bloody suitor they've brought me from the day I came of age."

"So?" The blonde girl retorted.

"So I know very well that the heart _knows_ what it wants and what it doesn't." While Emma's tone and words seemed to lack their usual pomp and circumstance in a meeting like this one, she remained as poised as ever–her back ramrod straight, her neck long and lovely. She gave the queen a rather doubtful look and waited for her to continue. "Princess or peasant or pirate–it doesn't matter. As a human being–you have a right to fall in love with whoever you want."

"But?" Emma interjected, seeing where she was going.

"But if you want your people to accept that, you're going to have to _fight_ for it. And if you're not willing to fight for it, then…."

"Then, _what_ , Merida?" Emma snapped. The Queen sat back in her seat at that, assuming a position of defeat.

"Then you deserve exactly what you get."

Killian was utterly awestruck. In just a few moments, his entire perception of the world and how it worked had been turned completely upside down with this one firebrand of a queen.

Could this be real? Was she really saying what he thought she was saying?

Could the love he shared with Emma be even more than it already was? Could there be an actual future for them once she reclaimed her rightful place on the throne in the Enchanted Forest? One that didn't include another man at her side and a broken-hearted Killian?

Perhaps they'd have to fight for it, but Killian knew Emma was worth it.

 _After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets._

Those words had been haunting him for years, but now they made him feel something. Something he hadn't dared to really allow himself to feel since the day he watched the Dark One rip out Milah's heart and crush it.

 _Hope._

It was a powerful thing.

In the time Killian had spent musing on what the Queen meant, the two women at the table with him had seemed to reach some kind of understanding. They were laughing and drinking and chatting excitedly about things Killian couldn't bring himself to focus on. Not now.

Perhaps royalty isn't always personified in a prim and perfectly elegant little package. Perhaps there was a place in Emma's world for him after all. Perhaps a pirate really _could_ be a hero.

Perhaps they could fight the Dark One _and win_.

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A/N: Thanks again to **slightlyxjaded** who's a real firebrand of a beta queen! :)


	13. Chapter 13: The Broken Kingdom

Chapter 13: The Broken Kingdom

A/N: I'm baaaaack! Special thanks to **slightlyxjaded** who super beta blasted her way through this chapter even though she was sick.

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Killian awoke just before dawn. He'd always been an early riser–his body had become so in tune with the sun and sea from the years he'd spent aboard the Jolly Roger.

 _Or at least that was the case before she came along._ He thought, smiling as he gazed at the still sleeping form of his beloved princess. He was on his back and she was still curled into his side, one arm wrapped possessively around his waist. Her brow was furrowed, as if she were trying to work out some terrible quandary. He stroked the wrinkled flesh above her nose, grinning as her frown grew deeper still. He wondered what sort of dreams could produce such a troubled expression on her face as she began to stir. He ran a finger down the bridge of her nose and she swatted at him, rolling onto her back and away from him as her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he chuckled. She scowled at him and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"It's rather difficult to sleep when you're doing _that_ ," she snarked back at him.

"I confess such a thing has oft been said to me in my time," he said, grinning wickedly as he hovered over her. "Although usually in reference to other more enjoyable activities." Emma raised an eyebrow at him, trying (and failing) to conceal the smirk now playing about her lips. He kissed her quickly before nimbly tumbling out of bed.

"How can you be so utterly awake at this hour?" Emma groaned, glancing at the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

"I'm a pirate, love," he replied as he finished tugging his leather pants into place. Emma glared at him, obviously unimpressed with his explanation. "I like to think I hold my drink a little better than a princess."

"Well, you have me there," Emma replied, smiling a bit sheepishly. "My head feels like it's been pressed in a vice all night long." He tossed his waterskin onto the bedspread beside her. "Heavens above, that's not rum, is it?" He laughed.

"Water, love. Drink up. It'll help." Emma nodded gratefully, sitting up and draining the waterskin immediately. "We'll have to leave as soon as you're able," he continued, tugging his shirt over his head and crossing to the nightstand to retrieve his hook and brace. "If we leave now, we'll reach Camelot by nightfall."

"How? It'll take us a few days at least to round up Merida's troops and load the ships with fresh supplies."

"Too right, your highness," Killian said, tightening the leather brace on his forearm. "But if you and I travel to Camelot on horseback while the Queen of DunBroch sees that our preparations are properly executed, we'll be on the shores of the Enchanted Forest with an army worthy to wage war against the Dark One within a fortnight."

That last statement brought such a glow to Killian's face that Emma could not contain the smile spreading like wildfire across her own.

Her enemy's enemy had become her greatest love. How kind the fates had been to smile upon them in such a way–that their mutual happiness would be so thoroughly entwined.

She climbed out of bed, dragging the bedsheet with her, keeping it wrapped around her as she made her way over to him.

 _She's a vision,_ Killian thought, his eyes transfixed by the way the warm, rose gold light of dawn illuminated her from behind, creating a soft halo around her golden curls and filtering through the sheets. In that moment, in his mind, she was far more goddess than princess.

She rose up on her toes to kiss his lips and he tangled his hand in her makeshift dress of bedsheets, drawing her closer. She pulled back to meet his eyes, smiling up at him with more adoration than he could fathom.

True, they were from different worlds, and in not one of them would he ever be considered worthy of her love. But in that moment, he made a silent vow that he would endeavor to deserve her.

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Emma and Killian made their way through the English countryside on horseback. They convinced the Queen that they would make better time and attract less attention if it were just the two of them, rather than a band of soldiers traveling together. She agreed, of course, and advised them of the fastest route. They stopped only once to rest the horses and share a light repast together in a field of middlemist flowers by a stream where the horses watered themselves.

Killian was lounging lazily, looking up at Emma with his head resting on her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair. She was smiling at him, thinking of how they probably shouldn't waste any more time resting, but she loathed the idea of disrupting a moment spent truly alone with him. Something about the peaceful expression on his face made her want to linger.

Their blissful dalliance was interrupted by the sound of their horses whinnying nervously. Emma looked up and gasped.

"Killian, we're surrounded," she whispered. He quickly rolled himself onto his feet, drawing his sword at once. At this, Emma's horse (a lovely, but skittish dapple grey) took off in the direction they'd come from while Killian's spunky chestnut mare stamped and reared, ready for battle.

"Up, Swan," he growled, keeping his voice even and calm. Emma scrambled to her feet, releasing her own sword from its sheath. They stood back-to-back, rotating slowly as their enemies pressed in.

"A thousand pardons, friends," announced a male voice with a strange sort of accent Emma had never heard before. It almost reminded her of Killian's, but somehow, the voice of the stranger sounded more crass than the melodic brogue of her beloved captain. "Twas a lovely moment you two were sharing just now; I hate to intrude."

"Why **did** you then?" Killian snarled. The man laughed at that.

"Alas, I am a man duty bound. This is a desolate land and the two of you are obviously very well stocked." The hooded man drew his sword at that, stepping inside the circle of ruffians and making his way toward them. "Thus, it is my duty to relieve you of all your valuables and worldly goods and distribute them amongst the poor people of this land."

Killian's jaw dropped.

"Robin of Locksley!" he cried, incredulous.

The hooded man froze. The men currently encircling them stopped their advance. Emma stared, dumbfounded. After a moment, their assailant whipped off the hood of his cloak, exposing a ruddy-faced man with an impish grin.

"Killian Jones!" the man in the cloak scoffed. Killian laughed out loud and the two embraced in a hearty, back-slapping hug.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in Camelot?!" Robin exclaimed.

"I could ask you the same!" Killian replied. "But I can see you're up to your old tricks. Robbing from the rich to give to the poor?"

"It's lowly work, but someone has to do it."

"And people still believe that nonsense?" Killian laughed.

"It isn't nonsense anymore, mate," Robin said solemnly, "I meant what I said back there. This is a desolate land and there is great need among the people."

"Perhaps then we should quit our journey?" Emma suggested, keeping her voice low in case these men proved not as trustworthy as they might want them to believe. Killian shook his head, turning to face her.

"No, love. We can't face the Dark One without... _it_." He hesitated to speak the name of the item they were seeking in Camelot. Even if they failed to gain the support of the kingdom, they could not return empty handed.

"I don't know what you're looking for in Camelot…" Robin began. Emma's eyes widened and her heart began to race as she watched him raise his sword, "But there's no reason you should travel there alone. As I said, these people are desperate and you two are obviously well-stocked." The man sheathed his sword, the others did the same, and Emma felt all the tension leave her body in a rush of relief. "We'll ride with you to ensure you don't encounter any trouble on the road." Killian shook the man's hand.

"Thanks, mate," he said, "but we must move quickly."

"Aye. Men! To the horses!" Robin commanded. Emma was stunned as the pack of them hurried off into the woods, mounting steeds she'd neither seen nor heard in all the time they spent in the meadow, eating their lunch and talking together. Either these men were remarkably skilled in stealth or she was far too lost in the pleasures of Killian's company to notice.

 _Either way,_ she thought to herself, still wary of their new companions, _better be more careful._

Killian mounted his horse and extended a hand towards Emma. She took it and climbed up into the saddle behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She lamented the loss of her beautiful dapple grey, but relished the time she'd now be able to spend snugly pressed against him. She squeezed him a little tighter and he tossed a debonair smile over his shoulder at her before coaxing the mare into a swift gallop.

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By the time they arrived at the castle gates, Killian had explained his connection to Robin of Locksley. They'd been children together, both thieves, both constantly on the run, both abandoned by their parents and growing up in poverty. The men had time to catch up during their short ride to the city center and Robin had agreed to join their cause. He pledged the help of a few of his men, but only the ones without families to provide for.

Though Robin had explained the tragic state of what he called "The Broken Kingdom"–which had been in a state of desolation and disrepair for as long as anyone could remember. Her king had been on a quest to rebuild and restore Camelot to her former glory ever since he drew the legendary sword from the stone and took his place in history as the lowly squire who became the boy-king Arthur.

As they dismounted before the castle gates, Emma was struck by how very _unbroken_ the kingdom appeared to be. Perhaps the bulk of his work had been focused on restoring the castle rather than promoting the prosperity of the land. Either way, something inside her would not allow her to relax as easily as Killian had.

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King Arthur was as charming and benevolent as they could have hoped for. His humility and kindness were on display as he guided them through the castle. At every turn, there were men and women from the outlying villages working to restore the palace and its keep.

 _At least he employs commoners rather than expert stonemasons and architects_ , Emma thought, feeling a little guilty for judging a man she'd never met based on what precious little information she could glean from appearances and the talk of the town.

When they told him of their plight, he'd shown such great sympathy. He could do almost nothing for them, of course, given that his kingdom was in the midst of a terrible financial crisis.

"I am sorry to say that I can offer you no weapons or supplies. We don't even have an army here in Camelot. Not much to protect anymore," he mused, a rather crestfallen look flickering across his face before he took a breath and affixed a warm smile in its place once more. "But I will send with you as many of my knights as I can spare." At that, King Arthur took Emma's hand in his and bowed before her. "If you'll have us, my lady, we would be honored to fight at your side."

Emma smiled and graciously accepted his kind offer. She didn't know if she'd ever met a more truly noble man–so humble and so willing to give. Given the state of his poverty, his contribution to their cause was probably even greater than the most generous benefactors who had thus far supported them.

Still, there was something about him that made her feel uneasy. She couldn't put her finger on it– a sense, a niggling at the back of her mind. So small and seemingly insignificant that it almost went away completely with a reassuring smile from his handsome face.

 _Almost._

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A/N: I have to apologize for the ridiculous lapse between posting chapters. Writer's block. It's real. But luckily for you, I'm in the midst of a writing frenzy right now. If you're still with me, leave a comment and let me know!


	14. Chapter 14: All The World's A Stage

Chapter 14: All The World's A Stage

A/N: Alright you guys. This is a mega chapter. I hope it isn't _too_ long. But there wasn't really a good place to break it and I figure, if you've been with me this long- you've earned a nice big update with lots of things happening in it! Besides, you know I love to leave you with a good cliffhanger at the end of every chapter.

Oops! Spoilers! ;)

This chapter is dedicated to **ReginaQueenofHogwarts** for leaving me the kind of review that makes my day and fuels a writing frenzy. You can all thank her and **Polkie2** for this double update week!

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Emma paced nervously in her chambers. The King had invited them to stay for the night. As much as it pained her to delay their impending return to her beloved kingdom, she knew they had to accept. It would have been rude to refuse his kindness, especially if he learned they agreed to stay the night in both DunBroch and Arendelle along the way.

She was a little surprised by the grandeur of the feast he'd given in their honor–all the knights and nobles of the realm were there in their finery and the table spread was plentiful.

 _After all, isn't this The Broken Kingdom? Aren't they supposed to be terribly impoverished?_

But Emma knew royals well enough to understand that one never wanted to let the neighboring kingdoms know how bad things truly were within your borders. And being that King Arthur admitted he'd never been to The Enchanted Forest, it made sense that he would want to put on a good show. He would want to establish Camelot in her mind as strong, growing stronger, and not to be trifled with.

They were stuck at an impasse of observing standard courtly protocol. Nothing more.

So Emma and Killian played along. Smiling and bowing and making acquaintances, graciously receiving well-wishes and words of encouragement, and looking appropriately impressed and grateful to those who offered them unsolicited advice. Emma played the role of the kind and compassionate warrior princess, eager to gain the wisdom of an ancient kingdom like Camelot; and Killian, her most loyal servant and commander-in-chief.

She hated the pretense, but knew that it was necessary. Obviously, no one could know the true nature of her relationship with Killian. Not yet, at least. As a royal, she too had certain duties to perform and appearances to uphold when visiting neighboring kingdoms.

Especially when trying to establish a sense of camaraderie, kinship, and mutual respect.

Especially when she needed to buy Killian time to procure the item they'd come for in the first place.

That was the real reason Emma was pacing. After the feast, the handmaiden assigned to her had come to help ready her for bed. She brought a pitcher and basin for the princess to wash with and a clean night shift, both of which Emma was truly grateful to receive.

But the servant girl was long gone. And Emma had been waiting for what felt like an eternity.

 _He's been gone too long. He's been caught. I just know it,_ she thought, wringing her hands uselessly as she quickened her pace along the length of the room.

Just then, the door to her chamber swung open. Emma quickly turned and let out the greatest sigh of relief when she saw Killian slip through the opening and shut it once more.

"Gods you had me worried sick!" she breathed, rushing over to him.

"Aye and for good reason. I barely made it out of the reliquary in time. Had to hide in a bloody broom closet til the coast was clear."

Emma grabbed the lapels of his greatcoat and pulled him close, planting a fierce kiss on his lips.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she said, breathlessly. He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I'll try my best, Swan, but I have a reputation to uphold." He waggled his eyebrows at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "After all, what would the world be like without Captain Hook?"

"Admiral," she corrected, grinning. He chuckled and pecked her lips gently. "You have it then?" she asked, beaming up at him.

"Of course," he replied, producing a small metal box from inside his greatcoat. He handed it to her with a grin. "Did you doubt me, Swan?"

"I suppose you are a pirate, after all," she conceded, turning the thing over in her hands. It had a large red jewel on top and strange inscriptions all around.

"Careful, love," he warned her, "Legend says it contains the darkest evil."

"I am familiar with the tale of Pandora's Box, Captain," she chided.

"Admiral," he corrected. She narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Well, let's hope the legends are true," she said, handing it back to him for safekeeping. "Because containing the darkest evil is exactly what we're going to need it to do."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning, Emma, Killian, and a handful of Arthur's best knights prepared to depart for DunBroch. Robin of Locksley and a smaller group of his own men were waiting for them at the city gate. There was also a small group of nobles assembled there, preparing to send them off with a modest amount of pomp and circumstance. While Emma fixed a smile on her face, she groaned internally as she waited for the King to make his way down the staircase to bid them farewell. He was taking his time, greeting the nobles, even pausing to speak with the few peasants who'd gathered to watch the King dispatch Camelot's finest. Weeks at sea with Killian and their soldiers, free of spectacle and showmanship, had left her with a surprising amount of disdain for such frippery.

 _Better get used to it now_ , she thought, remembering that if they succeeded in their quest, she alone would be responsible for upholding such pageantry in her own kingdom. Not just for the sake of her own people, but for all the nobility of the realm.

Gone were the days of smiling and waving and deferring to her parents. If Emma reclaimed the throne, she would be the sole ruling representative of her people.

It struck her then how very alike these two kingdoms would be–Camelot and The Enchanted Forest. Who knew what kind of destruction the Dark One had wrought in her own kingdom? Would her beloved palace still be standing? Would the people be destitute? Would there even be anyone left alive to fight for and protect?

Perhaps she and Arthur had more in common than she knew.

A fresh wave of grief and the staggering weight of all that responsibility hit her like a ton of bricks and she felt her knees threaten to buckle beneath her. Instinctively, she reached for Killian, needing his strength to steady her. His arms came automatically around her.

"My lady?" he asked, careful to show the proper respect in word even if his deep-seated concern for her wellbeing wouldn't allow him to remove his hand from her waist.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile as she patted his forearm gently.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, his eyes fixed on her. Emma's eyes, however, were keenly aware of a handful of nobles watching them and whispering among themselves.

"Later," she urged, standing upright and pointing to his waterskin. Warily, he let go of her and handed her the skin. Emma took several healthy drinks and made a show of wiping her brow, hoping the nobles would assume she simply had a delicate constitution and had been too long in the sun. The plan seemed to work and Killian mercifully resumed his position at her side, albeit a little too close to her.

 _Propriety be damned,_ he grumbled to himself, wondering just what could have caused her to swoon like that.

Before he had the chance to press her further, King Arthur presented himself to them. Bows were exchanged and niceties observed, but inwardly, Killian was cursing the man for his timing.

"Your Majesty, we cannot thank you enough for your kindness and hospitality. You are too generous. We are in your debt," said Emma as she extended her hand to him. Arthur smiled as he took it and held it in both of his.

"I wish you the best of luck on your quest. Not that you will need it. I will be waiting for the announcement of your coronation with eager anticipation, Princess Emma." She flushed a little at that and he smiled warmly at her, bowing once more and placing a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, "Farewell, my lady. I hope we will meet again soon."

Emma was so surprised by the tenderness and affection she saw shining at her in the handsome king's eyes that she could not manage a reply. Without her permission, her cheeks turned a more violent shade of pink and she curtsied once more, bowing her head for good measure in hope of concealing all signs of her embarrassment.

Killian's sharp eyes missed none of it. And the nobles were whispering once more.

True to the role he was bound to play, Killian remained steadfast, immovable–his expression entirely devoid of emotion but for the tiniest twinge in his cheek that betrayed the clenching of his jaw.

At the king's dismissal, Killian and Emma each mounted their own horse. (One of Robin's men had tracked down her dapple grey in the woods overnight.) The trumpeters blew a royal fanfare and all the assembled people of Camelot waved and bade them farewell.

As the group prepared for departure, one of Arthur's men bowed low before him.

"All is prepared, my Lord. The men have been briefed, fully comprehend the need for discretion, and are prepared to follow your instructions."

"Very good, Sir Leon," Arthur said aloud, before turning to the man and lowering his voice substantially, "You know they have the box. Once it is filled with their quarry, you are to retrieve it and bring it straight back to me at once."

"Yes, my Lord," Sir Leon replied, mounting his horse. The rest of the party was beginning to depart. He wrapped the reins around his hand and prepared to spur his horse into action.

"And Sir Leon?" Arthur said, placing a hand on his forearm to stay him. Leon turned to the King and was a little disconcerted by the way the man's countenance transformed from friendly and benevolent to dire and dangerous.

"Don't let _her_ out of your sight."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Killian was livid. He spurred his horse to go faster as his thoughts spiraled out of control.

 _What in the bloody hell is that man playing at?!_ he thought, clenching his jaw as he remembered how obviously flirtatious his manner was toward Emma just before their departure. _Right in front of me! The bloody wanker!_

It occurred to Killian that it was a good thing that Arthur felt he had no reason _not_ to flirt with Emma. It meant that their ruse had been successful. If he felt Emma was fair game, then he knew nothing of their secret.

Moreover, Arthur had every right to consider Emma as a potential bride. As they neither met nor heard tell of any Queen of Camelot, he was an eligible bachelor. Perhaps the _most_ eligible bachelor for a newly-crowned queen of a vast and once prosperous kingdom. Perhaps Arthur might be the smartest match after all, not because of his station, but because of his _experience_ restoring and rebuilding a broken kingdom–a burden that Emma soon would bear, if everything went according to plan.

Still, it bothered him. Killian had always known he was unfit to be considered a viable suitor for Emma. True, the Queen of DunBroch had given him hope that perhaps one day, their love could be made public. They would have to fight for it, but it _was_ possible for a queen to have some say in who she married.

 _Married_. The thought nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Had his life really changed so much in so short a time? Had this woman truly taken his heart so completely? Had he so quickly forsaken the memory of his beloved Milah? And was he, the infamous pirate Captain Hook, now actually considering matrimony? And to a princess, no less?

Sometimes the world spun so quickly that Killian Jones felt quite sure if he didn't hold on tight, he'd be thrown right off.

Emma could tell _something_ was bothering him, but the expressions on his face shifted so drastically from one to another that she couldn't work out whether she was in for a scolding or a sonnet by the time they reached their destination.

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It was dark as they finally trotted through the gates of DunBroch. The substantial increase in the size of their party slowed their pace significantly. Still, Emma was impressed that they managed the journey in one day. It spoke to the skill and of each horse and rider that they made such excellent time. She could not have been more pleased.

 _Except of course if Killian didn't look like he'd been bound and dragged behind us the whole way_ , she thought, allowing her eyes to linger on his face a moment longer than she should have. She couldn't help it. He hadn't spoken the entire time and she was worried that perhaps he'd changed his mind again.

Perhaps seeing Camelot had given him doubts about their relationship. Or perhaps it was seeing Emma all flustered by the attentions of a ruggedly handsome King with striking eyes and a warm smile. She cursed her stupid vanity. She **loved** Killian–how could she be even  remotely affected by the friendly King?!

 _He caught me off guard!_ she thought. _That's all._

Upon her arrival, Emma's immediate presence was requested in the Queen's private chambers. Merida wanted to debrief her on the preparations that had been made in her absence. The ships would be ready to depart in the morning. After a few days in solitary confinement, Captain Mulan seemed much-chastened and was continually begging for an audience with the princess.

Merida also wanted to know the outcome of their trip, and though Emma had never revealed the whole of their plan, she seemed satisfied with the addition of several Knights of the Round Table to their party. Merida sang the praises of the Knights of Camelot and, after she had finished regaling her with tales of the strength and honor of the famous knights, Emma considered herself very lucky to have them.

By the time she finally made it to her bedroom, she was loathe to find it empty. There was a note tucked beneath a vase of thistles on her nightstand.

 _Princess,_

 _I've gone to see to the Jolly. Must be sure everything is up to snuff prior to departure._

 _Don't wait for me. I expect I'll have some matters to attend to and will be working late this evening._

 _Sleep well._

 _K_

Emma turned the thing over and over in her hands. She read it and re-read it, hoping for some hidden meaning. Surely this could not be the same man who'd written her such a beautiful note before and with news no more pressing than this. Could his affections have turned cold again? Could one awkward exchange with a royal have caused him to doubt her love?

"No. I can't abide this inconstancy. I won't." She said the words out loud to no one in particular. She pulled her heavy cloak out of the trunk at the foot of her bed and drew it around herself, tugging her hood firmly into place, making sure her golden curls were thoroughly concealed beneath it.

She was going straight down to the Jolly Roger to make damn sure he knew how much he meant to her.

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Emma strode right up the gangway with a purpose in her step. She was positively fuming. A few of Hook's men murmured words of welcome as they scurried out of the way. They'd seen her angry before. And they had no desire to get between her and the Captain. Smee motioned for the men to make their way below deck and they followed his orders without question.

Killian was staring out over the railing at the open sea, completely oblivious to her presence.

"Thinking of running, are you?" Emma spat the words like venom. "I didn't peg you for a coward, Hook."

Killian spun on his heel and stared at her, equal parts incredulous and enraged by her words.

"Emma, what the bloody hell are you talking about?" he hissed, his voice low as his eyes darted around the deck. He knew his own men were loyal, but there were all sorts here now. Men from Arendelle, DunBroch, and Camelot too–as well as the lot that had been with them from the beginning. Surely to expose the true nature of their relationship in front of all these strangers would be the epitome of folly.

"I got your note," she said, holding it out for him. "Tell me, Hook, what am I supposed to make of this?"

"Bloody hell, woman, would you keep your voice down?" he growled, looping her arm with his and practically dragging her into his cabin. Once the door was firmly shut, he let out a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair. "What is wrong with you? Do you want the entire realm to know? And how dare you speak to me like that in front of a fresh crew of my men?!"

"Ha!" Emma scoffed. "Now you care about propriety?! Not when you looked quite ready to tear Arthur's head off for kissing the back of my hand!"

Killian gave her a stern look that told her she'd gone too far.

"Well it mightn't have upset me quite as much if you weren't batting your eyes and preening like a bloody peacock!"

"Preening?! Is that really what you think?!"

"Well if it _looks_ like a peacock and it _acts_ like a peacock…" Killian retorted

"Is that why you sent the note?"

"For God's sake, Emma, I didn't send you any sodding notes!"

At this, Emma's rage was quelled.

"You didn't?" she asked, her voice much softer.

"No…" Killian confirmed, his face suddenly etched with concern.

"Oh relax, you two. I'm the one who sent the note." A smooth and almost feline voice sounded from the other side of the room. Emma spun to face it, searching the dark cabin for any sign of the intruder. Killian drew his sword with his good hand and wrapped his other arm protectively around Emma's waist, angling them so that he was standing partially in front of her.

Then came the sound of snapping fingers and a blazing fire roared to life in the fireplace, illuminating the room at once.

Emma and Killian both froze, their eyes blown wide in shock and terror.

Sitting there in Killian's favorite chair, grinning madly, was The Evil Queen herself.

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A/N: Be honest. Did you see that coming?

A big thank you to **slightlyxjaded** for putting up with my attempts at antiquated language. No one could ever accuse her of being an inconstant beta. ;)


	15. Chapter 15: There Is Freedom

Chapter 15: There Is Freedom

A/N: Warning. There's discussion of suicidal thoughts in this chapter. If that's something you're sensitive to, you've been warned. Also- good to be back, y'all! Special thanks to **polkie2** for reminding me I write things and for help clarifying what I actually wanted and needed to do with this chapter.

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" _Oh relax, you two._ _I'm_ _the one who sent the note." A smooth and almost feline voice sounded from the other side of the room. Emma spun to face it, searching the dark cabin for any sign of the intruder. Killian drew his sword with his good hand and wrapped his other arm protectively around Emma's waist, angling them so that he was standing partially in front of her._

 _Then came the sound of snapping fingers and a blazing fire roared to life in the fireplace, illuminating the room at once._

 _Emma and Killian both froze, their eyes blown wide in shock and terror._

 _Sitting there in Killian's favorite chair, grinning madly, was The Evil Queen herself._

"You can put that down," Regina said, waving her hand dismissively at the sword Killian was pointing at her. Instantly, the sword clattered to the floor. Killian's eyes darted between the Evil Queen and the cutlass at his feet. "Don't bother, dear. I'm not here for a fight."

"I wouldn't need it anyway," Killian retorted, scratching his neck with the tip of his hook and giving her a rather pointed look. Emma took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He glanced at her and her eyes seemed to plead with him. He got the message. "What are you doing on my ship?" Killian asked, his tone lacking its previous venom.

"I thought you'd never ask," Regina said, smiling as she stood up slowly. "You're planning an attack against the Dark One," She announced unceremoniously. Emma opened her mouth to protest but the Evil Queen waved her hand dismissively, "Don't bother trying to deny it. My spies are everywhere and I saw you steal Pandora's Box from the reliquary in Camelot with my own eyes." At that, all the color drained from Emma's face. Kilian had sworn that no one had seen him. Guessing her thoughts, the Queen interjected, "In my magic mirror, of course. Relax, dear. He's an excellent thief."

"So if you know our plan, why aren't you off warning the Dark One?" Killian asked, crossing his arms. Regina laughed out loud.

"Wasted journey. I'm sure he already knows."

"Then why the bloody hell are you here?!" Killian snapped. Emma took hold of his arm and scolded him under her breath. Didn't he know who this _was_?!

"I'm here to offer an alternative plan. One that might _actually_ work."

"Why?" Emma asked, for the first time brave enough to speak in the presence of the evil sorceress who'd spent most of her life terrorizing her mother.

"Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend," Regina replied. "I've had quite enough of that little imp. He's crossed me too many times. I want him _gone_."

"How do we know this isn't a trap?" Emma said, her voice soft and low.

"My darling girl," Regina said, smiling sweetly as she stepped closer to her. Killian remained motionless, but kept his hawk eyes trained on her. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it by now."

"Isn't that what you said about my mother too?" The sheer tenacity of the words that fell from Emma's lips surprised every person in the room, including Emma herself. Killian placed his hand on the small of her back. She squeezed his arm a little tighter, finding comfort in his proximity. Something like regret flickered across Regina's face before she lowered her eyes to the cabin floor.

"I _am_ sorry about your parents," Regina said, her tone was low and soft, and her hands smoothed over the wrinkles in her dress. "I know we had our differences in life," she continued, "But I think you know that it's been a long time since I wished them any harm."

Emma did know. And even if she hadn't, it would have been obvious from the dramatic shift in the Queen's countenance. She nodded solemnly, silently accepting the Queen's condolences.

"Differences?" Killian spat, "You spent nigh twenty years trying to kill an innocent girl."

"I did," Regina said, owning her actions, a little of her previous fire returning to her tone. "And that is precisely why I've come."

"I see. So you've seen the error of your ways and now that the Queen is dead, you've come to her daughter for atonement," Killian guessed.

"Not my atonement," Regina corrected. " _Yours_."

" _What?_ " Killian growled.

"You judge me, pirate. But you're just like me," Regina began.

"You're a wicked witch. And a bloody tyrant. I'm nothing like you," he spat with all the venom he could muster.

"How many years have you spent obsessing over how to take revenge on Rumplestiltskin? How many worlds have you sailed to in search of him? How many innocent lives have you sacrificed in a vain attempt to try and hurt him like he hurt you?"

For the first time in his life, Killian Jones was at a loss for words. The Evil Queen had so thoroughly wrecked him with her assessment of his life's work that he couldn't think of a single retort.

Emma squeezed his arm tighter and looked up at him. His eyes fell on hers automatically. She shook her head as if to dismiss the condemnation she could see weighing heavily on his shoulders. He simply gazed back into hers, as if he hoped to find some sense of absolution in them.

"Your pursuit of vengeance is understandable, but if you let it- it will consume you." Regina sighed and looked at him once more. "And his death will bring you no comfort. You will feel just as empty and listless as ever you did before."

Killian's eyes turned back to Regina. He could hear the ring of truth in her words. After all, here was a woman who had spent most of her life seeking vengeance- killed countless innocents in the pursuit of it-and ultimately, abandoned the task all together.

 _Not for lack of trying. Nor power._ He thought, considering how formidable an enemy he knew she could be.

"Why?" It was the only answer Hook could manage after hearing the Evil Queen call his purpose for living into question.

"Because after growing up with a mother like mine, I should have known better. As should you, Hook, having grown up in a world largely ruled by me." Regina sighed, letting her hands fall uselessly to her side as she looked first at Hook and then at Emma, "No one should have to live their lives in bondage to a tyrant."

That was it. The last straw. Something snapped inside of Killian at Regina's most recent revelation of his own soul. Emma watched as something shifted in his eyes, his jaw and fists both tightly clenched. It frightened her.

"I don't know what sort of game you're playing, _Your Majesty_ ," Killian growled, "But I am not a slave. Certainly not to _that_ bloody tyrant and another thing-"

Regina rolled her eyes and with a wave of her hand, Killian's voice left him. After a moment of initial shock, he raged and spewed all sorts of venomous accusations at the Queen, but not a sound could be heard from his lips.

Emma watched, equal parts awestruck and terrified. She'd never seen magic like this before. Sure, she'd grown up in the Enchanted Forest, where fairies and magical items were abundant. But this was Dark Magic. Hook's eyes met Emma's and she felt a familiar feeling welling up inside her. But it was interrupted by the sound of the Evil Queen clearing her throat.

"Relax, dear," Regina said with a sigh, "I'll give your petulant pirate his voice back once _the grown ups_ are finished talking." Hook glared daggers at the Queen, but didn't bother to reply. It made no difference anyway. Instead, he crossed his arms and inched closer both to Emma and his cutlass on the cabin floor, in case he should need it.

Emma swallowed hard and turned her eyes back to the Queen, fearful that perhaps she might find that disturbing grin pasted on her face again- that perhaps this had all been an elaborate ruse so the Queen could capture or kill her. Or worse.

But the Queen was staring at the floor, looking almost disappointed.

"Your Majesty?" Emma began, drawing her attention once more, "What is it you hoped to achieve in coming here?"

"I had hoped that Hook would see reason," said the Queen with a pointed look at the man in question, still seething from his forced silence, "That he would let go of his quest for vengeance and in doing so, not only free himself from the burden of his anger, but also free your people and even the Dark One himself."

"What could you possibly have to offer that could accomplish all of these things?" Emma asked, a quizzical expression on her brow.

Regina reached into the folds of her dress and produced a small, opalescent object.

"Is that…"

"A magic bean? Yes," Regina finished, placing it in the palm of Emma's hand. "Use it to send Rumplestiltskin to the Land Without Magic. He'll go willingly. He won't even put up a fight. No one else has to die."

"What? _Why?_ " Emma's eyes searched the Queen's for any sign of deception but found nothing but raw honesty.

"Because his son is there," the older woman answered. "It's the reason the Dark One has been tearing through every kingdom in the land. He's desperately trying to find a way to cross the realms and find his son. And if he succeeds in traveling to the Land Without Magic-"

"He'll be powerless. He won't be able to hurt anyone ever again," Emma finished, awestruck as she stared at the beautiful bean. "But surely he'll know that. How will we convince him to go to the Land Without Magic."

"He already knows that's where he'll find his son. He's already trying to get there. He's been to every soothsayer and oracle and fortune teller in every kingdom in the realm. All of them have said the same thing. In order to find his son, he must make the sacrifice he was unwilling to make when the boy was small. He must sacrifice his power and immortality. He knows what that means and he's been tearing through the land for a way to do it." Regina nodded at the bean, "Put the choice before him. Don't let him make the wrong one again."

"I will. I mean, I won't. I mean- thank you, Your Majesty." Emma sighed, frustrated with her own inability to form coherent sentences in such close proximity to a woman she'd learned to fear from a young age. Emma could see no lie in the older woman's eyes, but she couldn't quite bring herself to trust her. Emma closed her hand around the bean and clutched it to her chest. "But… why would you come here and risk your life to do this? Surely if you've been watching us, you knew that Captain Hook would be more likely to kill you than listen to you plead with him to abandon his quest for vengeance."

Hook shrugged, conceding the obvious truth in Emma's words, though secretly saddened by the idea that his beloved princess might still see him as nothing more than a pirate.

Regina nodded solemnly.

"I have been watching. And the thought did cross my mind," she admitted.

"Is it because of what Hook said? Are you seeking absolution?" Emma asked.

Regina paused for a long moment before responding.

"I suppose in a way, I am. I know I can never apologize to your mother now, can never make up for all the years of happiness I stole from her," she said with a sigh, "But I'd like to think at least I can protect _you_ , her daughter, and your love from suffering the same fate." Regina placed a hand very gently on Emma's cheek. Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. "Don't make the same mistakes your mother and I did. Don't seek your vengeance. And don't spend your life undermining and running from your enemies. Face them with the compassion and mercy they don't deserve. There is freedom in forgiveness."

Emma felt a tightness growing in her chest as she took in the kind and gentle admonition of the woman once known as the Evil Queen. Clearly, that moniker could stand no more.

"Thank you," Emma said, a bit breathlessly. The Queen merely nodded in reply and turned to leave. "For what it's worth-" Emma called after her, "I know my mother forgave you a long time ago."

A single tear slipped down Regina's cheek and she smiled.

"Thank you, Emma," she replied, "You're going to make a wonderful queen. Your mother would be so proud of you."

Emma laughed through her tears. And with that, the Queen disappeared in a swirling cloud of purple smoke.

Killian felt his voice return to him the very moment the sorceress was gone. But he could find no words as he listened to Emma gush about the latest twist in their tale.

She couldn't possibly have been happier. Regina had single handedly given her everything she could have ever hoped for. She could save them all- her kingdom, her pirate, and her people. Moreover, she now had the ability to set her people free from the tyranny of the wicked sorcerer Rumplestiltskin without leading countless men and women to their deaths in battle.

Killian watched awestruck as weeks of planning and toil fell apart before his eyes and he put his newly returned voice to good use at that. Emma's optimism was sheer foolishness. He questioned her relentlessly, pacing back and forth in his cabin. How did she know the bean was real? (He knew it was, but _she_ didn't know that.) How did she know this wasn't a trap? How would they get close enough to the Dark One to give him the choice? What would they do if he chose to stay? Didn't she know what a priceless gift the Queen had given her? Why on earth would she waste it on the man who killed her parents?

It was the last question that Emma found the most staggering. It was an illogical course of action, to be sure. Why on earth would she reunite _his_ family when he'd murdered her own?

"You swore you'd help me take my vengeance on that beast, Swan! He murdered your parents, everyone you loved!"

"I know," Emma admitted, taking his hand and hook in hers. She felt the tears threatening to fall, "But this was never about vengeance for me. I want to take back my kingdom and save my people. That's all I've ever wanted."

"No it bloody well isn't," Hook argued, pulling away from her. "I remember. You might have forgotten, but I haven't. You stood there in my cabin and told me what he did. You could hardly manage to stop crying all night. 'You're not the only one with a vendetta, Hook!' That's what you said!"

"I did," Emma agreed, looking at him with tears now streaming freely down her face, "I was so hurt, so angry. Can you blame me? I just watched my parents' execution! Killian, _minutes_ before I met you, I was so lost in my own pain that I was seriously considering ending my life. I was curled up in an actual hole in the ground, starving, and couldn't find the will to do anything about it."

This revelation stopped him cold. He knew she was desperate when he met her, but could she really have gone so far down that dark road? He knew it well, that place she was describing- that place of feeling so overcome by the severity of your circumstances that the only logical solution seemed to be putting an end to them in death. He crossed the room immediately and gathered in her in his arms. Emma buried her face in his chest and sobbed, her hands finding purchase in his signature black chemise. They sank to their knees on the floor together- so much like the first night they'd spent together in that very same cabin.

Once her weeping seemed to subside, Killian felt the need to ask the question that had been burning in his mind.

"How did you find it?" She looked up at him, her brow furrowed as if she didn't understand his meaning. "The will to crawl out of that hole you were hiding in." Emma nodded, sniffling. He fetched a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She smiled and nodded her thanks, wiping her face and cleaning herself up.

"It was the strangest thing," Emma said, "It was as if my parents were there with me in the Hollow, whispering their last words of wisdom."

"What did they say?" Killian asked, tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear.

"They reminded me of my duty to save my people. They said to do the next right thing." She laughed out loud at that, "And then I met you!"

Now it was Hook's turn to laugh. Emma kissed his jaw and placed her hand on his cheek, drawing his eyes back to hers.

"I thank my lucky stars that I did," she admitted, brushing his hair out of his eyes with her fingertips. Killian closed the distance between them with a passionate kiss.

"Gods, I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"I love you too," she admitted, closing the gap between them once more.

Killian could not pretend that Emma had won him over just yet with her new plan to defeat the Dark One by giving him exactly what he wanted. But he wouldn't fight with her about that now.

Not when her grief had come back to haunt her.

Not when she'd just bared her soul to him.

Not when she was kissing him as if she were drowning and he, her only source of air.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Holy feels, Batman! Have thoughts? You know where to put them...


	16. Chapter 16: It All Ends Today

Chapter 16: It All Ends Today

A/N: Don't let the title of this chapter deceive you. That's all I can say.

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The time had finally come. Emma, Killian, and their fleet of ships filled to the brim with soldiers had arrived safely on the shores of the Enchanted Forest. The day had been a busy one–making camp, unloading the ships, distributing food and arms among the men and women prepared to fight and die for their cause. Of course, Emma's presence had been required as the rightful heir to the throne at the council meeting where Killian explained to the assembled captains and lords the plan for laying siege to the castle. He didn't dare mention Pandora's Box or the Magic Bean. Naturally, he was far too intelligent to trust so many with such precious information, but it was more than that. He couldn't have told them the plan even if he wanted to, since he and Emma still hadn't managed to come to an agreement on the matter.

As far as Emma knew, they had both spoken their minds and simply agreed to disagree. But Killian was still seriously considering subterfuge. He'd never _actually said_ he would forsake their initial plan–an oversight on her part–so he wasn't _actually_ deceiving her. Or so he told himself. In truth, he felt so terrible allowing her to go on believing he was on board with her plan that he had no idea what he would do when the time came. He wouldn't face the Dark One without Pandora's Box close at hand, that much he knew for sure. But could he actually betray Emma's trust? Her wishes? Could he truly let that monster go? Could he really allow that demon, the destroyer of so many happy endings, the chance to have one of his own?

Killian didn't know. And while it was tearing him apart inside, he showed no outer sign of his inner turmoil. And Emma was none the wiser.

So there she was, on the eve of battle–her bare feet sinking into the shore of her own land.

She was terrified.

And she was drunk.

Emma let the bottle of rum slip out of her fingers and sink into the sand with a heavy thud as she gazed up at the enormous moon. Dressed in only her night shift, she lifted her skirt and stepped gingerly into the sea, letting the gentle lapping of the waves around her ankles soothe her.

It was all too much. She'd been bearing this burden for so long now–the massive weight of her responsibilities to her people, to her parents, to Killian, and to herself. She'd fought so hard to get here, overcome a thousand insurmountable obstacles, and found the kind of love she knew her parents would be proud of.

 _Killian…_ She thought, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth as the wind whipped around her. Her eyes slid shut and she bowed her head in silent thanks to whatever powers saw fit to bless her with him. He'd given her strength when she had none. He'd been her comfort, her solace, her truest love and confidante. She shuddered to think what might have happened to her if they'd never met in the tavern that night. She never told him so, but he was the only reason she found the strength to do any of this.

Emma knew the hell he'd gone through, everything he lost at the hands of their mutual enemy, and how he never stopped fighting, never gave up. How could she do anything else? So they made a plan and miraculously, it had worked. At least, so far.

And now, she didn't know if she could go through with it.

"Killian," she sighed into the wind, staring up at the enormous moon hanging in a cloudless sky. She couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him.

As if on cue, he emerged from his tent and saw her standing there, ankle deep in the rising tide. There grew a tightness in his chest. Something about the sight of the woman he loved standing in the ocean he called home had awoken such a terrible longing within him. Was there anything he wouldn't give to spare her this? To take her away–far from this land and everything that threatened to tear them apart. A life at sea seemed to suit her. They could be happy together.

A brutal gust of wind off the water brought him back to his senses and all he could think was how cold she must be in only her night dress. He ducked inside his tent once more to grab a thick wool blanket and made his way down the beach to join her, heavy black boots sinking in the sand.

"You'll catch your death in this cold, love," he said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She smiled at him softly.

"Hardly," she argued, "The wind is cold, but the water's warm."

"Aye, for now," he conceded, "But that water gets colder and colder every minute the sun is gone. And you'll be sorry when you're facing the Dark One with a runny nose."

She laughed out loud at that. He smiled, pleased that he'd managed to lighten whatever dark mood had brought her here. She stepped toward him and buried her face in his chest. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her hair, thankful for the way her warmth and light chased his own dark clouds away.

"Are we really going to do this?" she asked, her tone laced with doubt.

"We've come this far, love," he said, stroking her hair as he gazed out to sea. "Can't turn back now."

"What if we fail?" Emma asked, nuzzling her face into the warmth of his open shirt.

"If we fail, we'll be sentenced to death," Hook replied, glancing up at the sky. "And then reunited with our loved ones."

Emma blinked, a little caught off guard by his raw honesty. There was a sort of comfort in the thought. That was one of the things she loved best about him-–he never lied to her.

With shaky breath, Emma finally put words to her greatest fear.

"What if we _don't_?"

Killian drew back to meet her eyes.

"What do you mean, love?"

Emma swallowed hard and forced herself to speak the words out loud.

"What if we succeed…and I become Queen…and we–

"Can't be together?" he finished. She nodded, looking down, her fingers playing absently with the collar of his shirt. He placed the curve of his hook beneath her chin and lifted gently til her eyes met his once more. "I already told you long ago. I love you, Emma. I loved you the very moment we met. I suspect I'll always love you." Emma blushed and turned her face away. She remembered the occasion in question far too well–it was the morning after they'd first slept together. She was trying to let him down easy and he was trying to do the same, though they'd both wanted something more. He cupped her cheek with his hand and pressed his forehead to hers, determined to finish his speech. "And I'll have you on whatever terms you'll allow."

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Early in the morning, at first light, Princess Emma Nolan led her army into battle with Killian Jones at her side. They were met on the field by an army of men and women sworn in service of the Dark One. As Emma's eyes scanned their faces, she realized the drastic differences in expression that spoke volumes to each one's reasons for being there. Some wore the look of fierce warriors, eager to shed blood and gain glory on the battlefield. But others were terrified. Still more were obviously conflicted by the thought of having to fight the ones who'd come to liberate them.

And so, in a rousing speech, Emma called for their allegiance. She called them to forsake their duty to the Dark One, muster their courage, and fight for their freedom. She tried to hide her astonishment as more than half the Dark One's forces abandoned their posts and joined the ranks of their rebellion.

The sound of maniacal laughter and a pair of hands slowly clapping emerged from among the group of mercenaries still standing on the other side of the battlefield. Killian felt his blood run cold as the Old Fiend himself slithered out from the crowd, grinning like a madman.

"Bravo, dearie," the Dark One said, approaching them. "What rhetoric! Your parents would be so proud."

Instinctively, Hook's grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, his stance widening.

"Rumpelstiltskin," Emma announced, "You are hereby charged with high treason, the murder of countless innocent souls, and regicide." She spat the last word like venom. "I, Princess Emma Nolan, the rightful heir to the throne, and the good people of this land have come to bring justice and peace to the kingdom once more. How do you plead?"

"Oh, guilty, your highness," said the Dark One in a tone as mocking as he could manage, "Of that and _so much more_."

Killian heard the threat in his tone as clear as day and he slipped his hand inside the pocket of his greatcoat, taking Pandora's Box in his hand and positioning his finger on top of the jeweled button on the top. Plan be damned–all that mattered now was Emma's safety.

Emma drew her sword and pointed it at the beast who killed her father and mother and countless others. She felt the hatred rising up inside her as she thought of all those lives lost, all the loved ones left behind with only their grief to comfort them. She should have been just like them. But she wasn't.

In her darkest hour, she wasn't left to her devices. Someone, something, somewhere had seen fit to grant her a second chance at happiness.

What had she ever done in her lifetime to deserve such mercy? She'd grown up a spoiled, selfish brat–accustomed to getting her own way and doing whatever it took to get it if it wasn't handed to her on a silver platter.

Emma had never murdered anyone, but even as she felt the rage swelling within her, she knew she was capable of that and far more.

Take away all the specifics–they were much alike.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" Emma announced, "In the name of King David and Queen Snow, by the power and authority vested in me as rightful heir to the throne, you are now and forevermore banished from this land!"

The people standing behind her cheered uproariously.

The Dark One's face suddenly shifted from that of amusement to something much darker. He narrowed his eyes.

"You and _what army_?" he growled. With a wave of his hand, Emma heard the sound of a thousand bodies falling behind her and watched as even his own mercenary army collapsed on the cold, hard ground. Her eyes blew wide and all she could hear was the deafening sound of her own heart beating so rapidly as she slowly turned and saw an ocean of bodies strewn across the field.

Worst of all, Hook was among them.

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A/N: IT'S NOT OVER! Don't kill me! I'm sorry. I just can't help myself. I love a good cliffhanger. And if you're a fan of OUAT- I suspect you probably do too. :)


	17. Chapter 17: The Saviour

Chapter 17: The Saviour

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"Rumpelstiltskin!" Emma announced, "In the name of King David and Queen Snow, by the power and authority vested in me as rightful heir to the throne, you are now and forevermore banished from this land!" The people standing behind her cheered uproariously.

The Dark One's face suddenly shifted from that of amusement to something much darker. He narrowed his eyes.

"You and _what army_?" he growled. With a wave of his hand, Emma heard the sound of a thousand bodies falling behind her and watched as even his own mercenary army collapsed on the cold, hard ground. Her eyes blew wide and all she could hear was the deafening sound of her own heart beating so rapidly as she slowly turned and saw an ocean of bodies strewn across the field.

Worst of all, Hook was among them.

Fighting the urge to hyperventilate, Emma mustered every ounce of her courage and turned back to face the evil sorcerer Rumpelstiltskin. Her jaw set, her lips tightened into a firm line, and she lifted her sword once more with both hands. The creature let loose a peal of that maniacal laughter once more.

"Oh relax, dearie. They're only sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"Of course!" he tittered, "After all, who would be left to torment once I've killed you?"

Hope flickered somewhere deep inside of Emma.

"Then…. M-my parents?" She dared to ask.

"Oh, they're still dead as a doornail," he replied flippantly. Hate flared within her once more. Rumpelstiltskin squealed with glee. "Oh, you are a feisty one! Tell me, princess. Just what do you intend to do now that you've lost your family and your army and your pirate?" He spat the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

After a moment of hesitation, in which she silently reminded herself that her plan would rid her world of the Dark One _forever_ , Emma lowered her sword and reached into the pocket of her mother's white leather jacket, producing the magic bean.

"I intend to set you free."

For perhaps the first time in history, Rumpelstiltskin was rendered completely speechless at the sight of the small, opalescent object in the palm of Emma Nolan's hand.

He knew what it was. He knew it was real. He knew it was the key to finding his son. What he didn't know was why this woman was offering it to him. He'd slaughtered her family, stolen her kingdom, ransacked her home and terrorized the people she had sworn to protect.

"B-but… _why_?" It was all the reply he could manage.

Emma felt tears welling in her eyes, light magic rising up inside her. She looked up at the sky, as if to call upon the strength of her dearly departed parents, and looked at him once more.

"My mother taught me that _everyone_ deserves a happy ending." The tears rolled down her cheeks as she whispered the words, "even _you_."

Rumpelstiltskin could do nothing but stare at her with his mouth agape as a single tear slid unbidden down his cheek. He wiped the offending liquid away and was perhaps even more awestruck by his own reaction than this latest turn of events.

He didn't know what to say. So he snatched the bean from her hand and disappeared.

Emma simply stood alone on the battlefield for several minutes, her mind reeling from all that had just occurred.

"Gods above, what have I done?" she said aloud to no one in particular. He just took the bean and vanished. Without apology, without gratitude, without bargaining or threats––he was simply gone. Their plan had hinged on his desire to be reunited with his son being stronger than his lust for power. In the Land Without Magic––he'd no longer be a threat. He'd no longer be the Dark One and he'd have no way of ever returning. "What if he isn't? What if he's still here? Or worse––what if he's gone somewhere else? Another land _with_ magic." Trepidation seized her at the thought.

And then, at last, she remembered Killian. She rushed to him at once, kneeling beside him, dragging his heavy body into her lap. The sight of him lying there so flaccid and seemingly lifeless brought tears to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying silently to anyone who was listening that their love would be enough to break Rumpelstiltskin's last curse. Then she pressed her lips to his and felt a burst of light magic surge through her and blow like a powerful gust of wind through the land.

Killian's eyes fluttered open and he smiled as he found himself gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved. She was crying, yes, but her face was positively radiant with joy and it told him all he needed to know.

Together, they had faced the Dark One. And Emma had defeated him.

All around them, as the people of the Enchanted Forest and the neighboring kingdoms woke from their slumber, cheers and shouts began to erupt from all around them as the mercenaries snuck away as quickly and quietly as possible.

"Long live Queen Emma!"

"Queen Emma, the merciful!"

"All hail the saviour of the realm!"

Suddenly keenly aware of the many sets of eyes upon them, Emma pushed herself up to a standing position and distanced herself from Killian. He simply smiled up at her in adoration and joined in the chorus of multitudes singing the praises of the woman he loved.

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Much to Emma's surprise, the castle remained largely intact. There had been some damage to the outer wall and the drawbridge from the initial siege and it seemed that the Dark One had thrown a full blown magical temper tantrum in the library, leaving it in a state of utter chaos. The treasure room had been thoroughly ransacked, presumably by the mercenary servants of the Dark One, but the strongroom beneath the citadel (where her parents kept the most priceless treasures, heirlooms, magical objects, and the lion's share of her family's money) had been left mercifully undisturbed.

The most disconcerting changes of all were found in the Great Hall. The bright and colorful banners bearing her family's crest had been replaced with ones bearing the sigil of the Dark One, in shades of black on black, unlike anything Emma had ever seen. The ornate tapestries and oil paintings which had once lined each portico had been torn to shreds and in their stead, there were dark runes and profanities and illustrations of all sorts of appalling things being done to kings and queens (presumably, her family)––the likes of which made Emma's stomach churn. All of this had been scrawled in what looked to her like blood.

But worst of all, where once stood three gilded thrones on a dais, each one of equal size and beauty, there was now only one. It was a dark and sinister looking thing, with its high back and menacing frame, and was much larger than any of its three predecessors. Something like thick, black vines covered the arms and legs and seemed to sprawl out from its base, as if the seat itself had grown in the midst of some great, malevolent tree whose roots stretched far and sunk deep into the foundation of the castle. The Blue Fairy had taken great care to remove the thing at once and saw to it that it was safely and immediately destroyed.

It had taken a whole company of soldiers an entire day to clean the place of all signs of Rumpelstiltskin's attempts to desecrate the once beautiful Great Room, where countless balls and feasts had been hosted by Emma's ancestors for more than a thousand years. It would never be returned to its former glory, but at least it no longer bore the marks of the Dark One's maleficence.

In the days before her coronation, Emma felt it wise to grant her people audience––after all, she was the heir apparent and her people had suffered much in her absence. It was her duty to hear their grievances and alleviate what suffering she could. In the appointed time, many had come to express their gratitude or condolences on the loss of her family and even more to pledge their allegiance, but most of the people from the nearby villages had suffered the same plight: their crops and homes ransacked or burned to the ground. Once again, the burden of so many responsibilities weighed heavily upon her shoulders and she wracked her brain for an immediate solution to the problem. Her hands were largely tied until after the coronation, but in the meantime, she promised that anyone in need of food could come to the palace kitchens at midday and receive whatever portion could be spared.

Granny, the cook in charge, was none too pleased when she learned of this arrangement, but her kind and compassionate heart could not bear to turn away the handful of families with young children who came to her the following afternoon. More came with each passing day and Emma spent long hours writing letters to the neighboring kingdoms to ask, once more, for their aid while she wracked her brain to come up with a more sustainable solution––one that didn't include the loss of a whole year's worth of crops and almost certain starvation and death for her people once winter came.

On the day of Emma's coronation, the nobles from the neighboring kingdoms arrived bearing gifts––and not just for the new Queen. There were carts full of produce and grain, tools and lumber and canvas to build shelter while the people who'd lost everything rebuilt their homes, blankets and linens and clothing too. Emma wept as she greeted each king and queen, overcome with emotion at their generosity. It wasn't enough. Not by a long shot––but it was a start, enough to tide them over while she came up with a more permanent solution.

The ceremony was beautiful. It was held in the cathedral, the one place in the castle that the Dark One and his wicked men dared not enter. Emma wore a stunning red dress with a full skirt and train. She swore to protect the kingdom and that her reign would be marked by justice and love. As the Grand Maester placed the beautiful golden crown on her head––a moment of tremendous solemnity and significance––someone whistled loudly in the crowd, causing the whole room to erupt in triumphant cries and cheers, whoops and hollers. Emma laughed out loud, her eyes finding Killian among them, who was grinning at her with a very guilty look on his face.

The Grand Maester was less than amused, but ultimately slammed his staff on the marble floor and led the people in shouting,

"Long live the Queen!"

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Emma's jaw nearly dropped as she stepped into the Great Hall, where the reception and ball were to be held. It was nothing short of fairy land––a winter fairy land. There were intricate ice sculptures in every portico, swirls and flourishes had been drawn with frost on every pillar, and from the ceiling hung the most enormous chandelier Emma had ever seen, and it too was made entirely of ice. It was grandeur the likes of which she'd never seen before, grandeur her kingdom would never have been able to afford at a time such as this. Her eyes scanned the throng of guests and found Queen Elsa standing by a table with a chocolate fountain, chatting excitedly with her sister. Emma went to her at once and drew her into the tightest hug.

"Thank you," she whispered in the Queen's ear, her voice threatening to crack from all the emotion surging up inside her.

"Of course," Elsa replied, smiling as she gave her an extra squeeze for good measure.

As the evening went on, Emma had been obliged to speak with and promise dances to many of the nobles from the neighboring kingdoms. There was hardly a soul there she didn't need to find and express the depths of her gratitude and how greatly indebted she was for all their kindness. Of course, her allies were all gracious benevolence and waved their hands dismissively, reminding her how her parents had been allies with each of them and it was the practice of each kingdom to give generously whenever another had need. Emma vowed to uphold this practice with vigilance and all manner of niceties were observed.

After hours of standing and talking, a fanfare was blown and the crowd quieted and turned their attention to a balcony overlooking the hall, where an emcee was requesting the attention of the people. Emma took this opportunity to grab a glass of wine and retreat to the comfort of her throne, exhausted and a little overwhelmed by so much social interaction after being largely secluded with only Hook for company on their journey. The man in question approached her slowly, kneeling before her and bowing his head reverently. Emma smiled. In that moment, he was the only person in the world she actually _wanted_ to talk to. He raised his eyes to meet hers and lifted his brow inquisitively, as if asking permission to approach the throne. Emma nodded solemnly, which looked a little odd given the clearly present smirk playing about her lips.

He climbed the dais and stood before her, bowing low.

"Your Majesty," he said, extending his hand, "may I?"

"Of course," she replied, smiling as she reached for him. He took her hand in his and placed a slow and sensual kiss upon it, his eyes locked with hers. Emma felt her heart fluttering madly in her chest and took a deep breath. He smiled, pleased with his obvious effect on her, and moved to kneel beside her; this new position granting him better access to her ear.

"You look very beautiful tonight, Swan," he whispered softly. She grinned, turning her head to allow her eyes to drink their fill of him. He'd cut his hair and trimmed his beard and wore a crisp white shirt with black vest and a tan coat trimmed with black accents. And of course, his signature black pants and boots. All of this was tailored to perfection and highlighted his broad shoulders and muscular arms, normally hidden by his loose pirate garb. Emma took a long sip of her wine in hopes of concealing how desperately she wanted him. While she adored his usually rugged and slightly disheveled look, a freshly groomed and finely dressed Killian was no less pleasing to her eyes.

"You don't look too bad either, Admiral," she teased with a smirk, "almost presentable, even."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a bright, jovial smile. He was about to tease her again, make some comment about her dress and how it was so awful, she'd best let him take it off immediately, but they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat a few feet away from them. Emma turned and tried to hide her astonishment at the presence of King Arthur of Camelot, who was now standing before her.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing low, "the ball in your honor is about to begin. May I have the privilege of leading you through the first dance?"

Emma's green eyes scanned the room. There was hardly a soul not watching them with eager anticipation, many whispering excitedly to one another. Of course, she would be expected to open the dance. And of course, she would be expected to do so with the highest ranking official in the court. King Arthur was an obvious choice. He extended his hand with a warm and welcoming smile on his face, the same one that caught her off guard that day in Camelot.

She smiled graciously and gave the only reply she could.

"Of course."

She rose and took his proffered hand and he led her artfully onto the dance floor. Everyone was watching and none more closely than Killian, who felt the familiar sting of jealousy burning through him at an alarming rate. His face, however, remained the picture of nonchalance, except for the barely noticeable clenching of his jaw.

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A/N: Awwww, did you think the drama was over? Don't you know me better than that by now? ;) All hail the saviour of the realm, my dear **slightlyxjaded** , who remains my one true beta queen.


	18. Chapter 18: Terms and Conditions

Chapter 18: Terms and Conditions

A/N: YOU GUYSSS! It's been forever! I'm so sorry! But I'll have you know, it's my goal to finish this sucker during NaNoWriMo. I *was* going to attempt an actual novel, from scratch, this month. But my love for you is real. So I'm devoting all my pent up creative energy toward finishing this for all of you. (Looking at you, **polkie2** , **drowned-dreamer** , **paupaupi** , & etc!)

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It was late, the guests had been filtering out for more than an hour, and Emma finally felt she was able to excuse herself and retire for the evening. She climbed the stairs to her chambers, her aching legs seemed to whine in protest. Just as she began to wonder where Killian had disappeared to, she felt a strong pair of arms lock around her waist and drag her into a dark corner. She gasped and prepared to scream, but blew all the air out of her lungs instead when she saw a familiar, devilishly handsome face grinning at her.

"Killian, you nearly scared me to death!" she scolded, swatting him reproachfully. He chuckled, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Apologies, Highness," he said, pressing his forehead to hers as he drew her closer. His wicked grin and proximity doing nothing to quiet her poor heart, still racing from the fright he'd given her just a moment prior. The scent of him was intoxicating, crisp and clean, but always carrying the faintest notes of salt and sea. Emma gripped the lapels of his shirt and swayed into him, her lips almost touching his, then thinking better of it. The motion made Killian's breath hitch and now it was Emma's turn to grin. She looked around, making sure the coast was clear. Then she kissed him with all the ferocity and passion she could muster and it nearly knocked him over. He tangled his good hand in her hair, drawing her even closer. It ended too quickly for his liking.

"Wait five minutes and then follow me," she said, reluctantly letting go of him and making her way down the hallway to her chambers.

She paused there, greeting the guard posted outside her door and whispering something in his ear. He watched as the man gave a sharp nod and a quiet, ' _Yes, m'lady_ '. And then she disappeared into her bedroom.

Killian took this opportunity to catch his breath. He touched his lips with his fingers, as if she had somehow burned them with her own. He let out a nervous breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiled as he sank back against the wall of the stairway, keeping to the shadows. He wondered what Emma could possibly be doing that required him to wait after a kiss like that. Then he saw three handmaids exit her room, taking the stairs at the opposite end of the corridor down to the servants' quarters.

It wasn't until that moment that Killian fully realized the change that was coming. While there had always been a need for caution and discretion, they never needed to _hide_. Not like this. Not sneaking around, ducking servants, and banking on the loyalty of palace guards. True, there was something about the idea of stolen kisses in dark corners that made Killian's heart beat faster, but there was another side of their secret love affair that had quite a different effect on him. Like watching Emma dance with another man at a grand ball while the entire kingdom watched and speculated about future engagements and united kingdoms and a royal wedding. It was enough to drive a man mad.

Ultimately, though, it didn't matter. He loved her.

 _I'll have you on whatever terms you'll allow._ His own words echoed in his mind and he winced, knowing he meant them still, but only now realizing the cost.

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Emma had begun to suspect something wasn't quite right with Killian. That night as he'd taken her to bed, he was a man obsessed. He'd always been passionate, but she had no category for what had just happened between them, all the while hearing him murmur how much he loved her, how she belonged to him–Emma couldn't complain, not really, but neither could she help wondering what on earth had gotten into him.

She watched as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Her eyes scanned his face, as if perhaps, if she looked hard enough, she'd be able to figure it out.

"What is it, Swan?" Killian said, folding his arms behind his head and turning to look at her, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

"I just…" she trailed off, biting her lip, searching for the right words. "That was incredible," she said finally, losing her nerve. Perhaps she was misreading him. A slow smile spread across Killian's lips.

"Aye…" he coaxed. She sighed and moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest and squeezing him tightly. "Isn't it usually?" he asked, his tone strangely nonchalant for how very far beyond _usual_ his performance had just been. She pushed herself up to sit beside him on the bed, drawing the bed sheet with her and tucking it under her arms.

"Killian," she implored with a sigh, convinced now that something was bothering him. "Tell me."

He looked at her then, and for a moment, his eyes were filled with longing, and then he sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face and it was gone. Emma was sure she was going to have to drag it out of him, but then the words came gushing out like a waterfall.

"You have no idea what it's like to watch the woman you love in the arms of another man. Swan, watching him dance with you, seeing him flirt with you openly in a crowded room–I could never do that. I could never be that for you. Not if you wanted anyone to respect you as Queen."

"You're jealous of _Arthur_?" she asked, her tone unmistakably incredulous.

"Of course I am! How could I not be?" Killian snapped, tangling his fingers in his already disheveled hair and tugging it. A slow smile spread across Emma's lips and she moved closer.

"Well, you're the one in bed with me, for starters," she pointed out, leaning down and placing a slow, sensual kiss on his lips. When he didn't respond, she frowned. "And furthermore," she added, resting her head on his chest. "I love _you_ , Killian. _You're_ the one I want, _you're_ the man I want to be with." Killian sighed and stroked her lower back affectionately.

"And I love you, Swan," he admitted, sounding a little defeated. "But I'm not a king. I'm not even a noble. I'm just a pirate."

"Admiral," she corrected, placing a kiss at the base of his throat before pushing herself up to look in his eyes. The hint of a smile flickered across his face at that. "Do you really think I didn't know that when this all started?" He sighed.

"I really think we have no idea what kind of opposition you're going to have to face when you tell the privy council you're in love with a pirate." She opened her mouth to correct him and he beat her to the punch. "Fine, admiral. Do you really think it's going to make a difference, Swan? They know who I really am."

At this, Emma's brow grew stern and her lips set into a tight line.

"You're wrong, Killian. If they had any idea who you _really_ are, there would be no question of the eligibility of your suit." She was so close, their noses mere inches apart. There was nowhere to hide. Killian began to turn away, but Emma took his face in her hands, silently insisting that he look at her and nowhere else. "I know who you are, Killian. I don't want Arthur or anyone else. I choose you. I love you."

It was lost on neither of them that what they were actually discussing (without _actually_ discussing it) was whether or not they could marry and if the court and people would accept Killian, not just as an acceptable suitor for Emma, but as their King.

The fact that Emma felt he was worthy, not just to hold an official position in her life at court, but of her love and devotion as husband and wife, was an overwhelming revelation. In that moment, everything had changed. Petty rivalry was just that. All he ever wanted–a good life with a good woman, a family, a home–was only just out of reach. And the fact that it was with Emma, who he loved more deeply than he thought it was possible to love another person, was the best gift of all.

Without warning, without another word, he tangled his hand in her hair, drew her close, and kissed her with such feeling, she was practically gasping for air when it ended. Emma could hardly complain, not when her whole body seemed to sigh and melt happily into his as if that was exactly where she belonged.

"Then I shall endeavour to deserve you," he said with a sense of finality. Emma smiled as she felt sleep threatening to claim her. She lay back down again, resting her head on his broad shoulder and snuggling into the curve of his neck, not even minding the stubble she found there.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Arthur heard the gentle knocking on the door to his chambers. He popped out of his chair at once and rushed to the door. His oldest and most loyal servant, Sir Leon, slipped quietly through the doorway and Arthur quickly shut the door behind him.

"Do you have it then?" asked the King, hands already outstretched in anticipation.

"Yes, your majesty," Sir Leon replied, drawing a small, familiar little metal box out of the pocket of his doublet. Arthur let out a great sigh of relief and took the thing.

"Pandora's Box. Well done, Sir Leon. Now we can restore everything in Camelot to the way it was before."

Leon shook his head sadly.

"I'm afraid not, your majesty." And with those words and the subsequent look on the king's face, the brave knight knew he'd never done anything that required more courage than this.

"Explain," Arthur commanded.

"The box is empty, Your Grace," Leon replied. "Her Majesty Queen Emma didn't use it against the Dark One. She banished him instead."

"Banished him?" Arthur snorted, as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Where? How?"

"To a land without magic, Sir Leon replied, swallowing hard. "With a magic bean…." He had to force himself to speak the last words. "The _last_ magic bean in the world, my lord."

At this, all the color drained from Arthur's face.

"You mean to tell me that the only one with the power to help us in our quest is now trapped in a land without magic?"

"Y-yes, my lord," said Sir Leon.

King Arthur strode straight over to the desk in his chambers and drained a goblet of wine before spreading out a map of the castle before him and stabbing his finger in the center of the castle's strongroom.

"Then it's time for Plan B."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Emma made her way down the hall to her first privy council meeting, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Just a few months ago, she crawled out of a literal hole in the ground with no greater aspiration than finding food, water, and shelter in a stable from a passing storm–and now, here she was, queen of her own kingdom, victorious in all of her endeavors. She defeated the Dark One, protected her people and her birthright, and she did it without even a single casualty of war. Moreover, she found true and faithful love with a man who, in her estimation, had no equal. She felt like skipping and twirling and singing her way down the staircase to the council room.

Noting the way some of the servants were already looking at her, Emma thought better of it. Perhaps she and Hook were not as careful as they thought. Perhaps someone had seen them together after all. If that were the case, Emma would need to present a countenance of regal decorum. At least until she understood the law concerning her marriage.

Odd that she'd never bothered to learn something so crucial in her studies. But when her parents were alive, it had never been a concern. After all, she knew they valued true love above all else and her own father was a humble shepherd before he became King. Back then, she knew they'd never ask her to marry anyone she didn't love, neither would they care about his station, if they found him worthy. Emma knew if they were still alive, there'd be no question of Killian's eligibility or the nature of their relationship. He loved her, she loved him. He had proven himself a good and loyal and faithful man, no matter his past or reputation. It was enough for Emma. It would have been enough for her parents too, had they been alive.

But they weren't.

Emma didn't know what obstacles stood between her and her happy ending, but whatever they were, she would fight and overcome them with Killian at her side.

And so she walked into the council room with a smile on her face. The council members all rose from their chairs and bowed, and there they remained until she took her place at the table.

Naturally, the council had much to discuss. The state of the kingdom, the needs of the people, immediate and necessary repairs to the castle, the disappearance of the Dark One, and foreign relations. Emma was careful to maintain a balance between heeding the advice of her counselors and asserting her own feelings and final judgment on the matters at hand, so that everyone at the table felt heard and confident in her reign. Emma felt her parents would have been proud, had they been there to see it, and many of the privy council members said so.

"Now, now! There remains one final matter to discuss," chirped the voice of a quiet and very conscientious cricket named Jiminy. An uncomfortable silence fell around the table. "The matter of Queen Emma's marriage."

At this, Emma's heart raced at an alarming speed, but she showed no outer sign of her inner turmoil.

"Can't this wait?" asked Granny, huffing impatiently. "Don't we all have enough on our plates right now with all the work to be done?"

"Yes, surely, this can wait at least a few weeks while we make sure the needs of the people are met and the Dark One is truly gone," Ruby agreed.

"But the law is very clear," Jiminy piped up.

"No one cares about some crusty old law," said Doc with a dismissive wave.

"On the contrary," Emma chimed in, "I care very much about the law of this land. My parents were good and noble rulers, who always found a way to do what's right, regardless of the circumstances. I intend to be a queen who follows their example to the best of my ability."

At this, the room fell silent. Ruby and her grandmother exchanged a sad and knowing look. And suddenly, Emma felt she may have made a very grave mistake. Jiminy gestured to a large scroll on the table, which Doc took reluctantly and unrolled, his eyes scanning the ancient paper with a look of determined scrutinization.

"The law says that this kingdom must always be led by two equals. It is why King Leopold was forced to remarry so quickly after Queen Eva's death. It is a law intended to protect the realm from tyranny and has always been upheld in the hope that true love would reign over all."

At this, Emma let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

"I am not surprised," Emma said.

"The law states that as sole ruler, you have three weeks to find and wed an eligible suitor or forfeit your right to the throne," Doc said with a note of hesitance.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Emma announced with a smile on her face that would not be concealed. "I already have a suitor and, with the council's permission, would like to make a case for the eligibility of his suit at once."

"Is he of noble birth?" asked Doc, his face alight with excitement she had not seen since the whole suitor discussion began.

"Well, no, not exactly," Emma admitted, wringing her hands in her lap, "but he has been titled by the Queen of Arendelle." At this, the room fell silent. Even Jiminy Cricket seemed unwilling to speak at this. But naturally, his conscience would not let him remain silent.

"The law clearly states that the land must be led by two equals. He must be of noble birth, your highness. A prince or a king."

Emma felt her blood turn cold. Her palms became clammy and her heart was pounding so loudly, she felt quite sure everyone in the room could hear it.

"But my father was a shepherd."

"Your father was a prince when he married your mother, the crowned prince of a neighboring kingdom, the sole heir to the throne of King George."

Emma knew that at this juncture, arguing over semantics and details would get her nowhere, except perhaps to force the council to posthumously annul her parents' marriage. Her mind raced, desperate to find a loophole.

"What if I can't find one?" She asked, trying to keep her tone even. She had meant to clarify, to weave words together that would somehow lead to an opening. But she couldn't find them, not now when her hope was failing.

Even Jiminy Cricket, resident scholar and voice of righteousness, couldn't bare to speak the words he knew were true. It was Doc, who placed his hand on top of Emma's and took a shaky breath.

"If you can't or won't find an eligible suitor, the crown is forfeit to the next in line for the throne." He pursed his lips and Emma could feel his hand trembling just as much as her own. She placed her free hand on top of his and gave him a tight-lipped smile and a nod she hoped would reassure him. "As you have no siblings, heirs, or living family members–the regency would fall to your step-grandmother, the Evil Queen."

Emma felt her heart tearing itself into little pieces.

Killian was her true love, but she couldn't marry him. She worked so hard to save her people and her kingdom, but being their queen meant she'd have to marry someone else. She wanted to trust that the woman she met on board the Jolly Roger wasn't really the Evil Queen anymore, but she just couldn't take that chance. Moreover, how could she ask her people to take that chance after all they'd suffered by Regina's hands?

A quick glance around the room at the crestfallen faces of her fellow council members confirmed her fears: she had essentially dug her own grave and now must lie in it.

Only one thought circled in her mind and Emma thanked her lucky stars that she was already sitting down, for surely it would have knocked her to the ground if she weren't.

 _How on earth am I ever going to tell Killian?_

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: That was a super long update. Thanks to my rockstar beta **slightlyxjaded** for sticking with me after all this time! Don't worry, guys. It's not over yet!


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